


Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight

by nobodyshome0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1950s, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Apocalypse, Bisexual Dean, Blasphemy, Casual Sex, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Collars, Consensual Kink, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Crowley Being an Asshole, Dean-Centric, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Being an Asshole, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Sex, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Evil Lucifer, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Flogging, Fucking Machines, Gay Castiel, Gratuitous Smut, Group Sex, Hallucifer, Homophobic Language, Human Castiel, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Leather Kink, Light Sadism, Loss of Faith, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Rape, Multi, Non-Ship Sex Dean/Another character, Not really Winsest, Omnisexual Crowley, Orgy, Pegging, Polysexual Sam, Power Exchange, Priest Castiel, Prostate Milking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, S&M, Safewords, Slave Castiel, Submission, Temporal Paradox, Time Travel, andro skoliosexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 119,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4536666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodyshome0/pseuds/nobodyshome0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of weakness Castiel sells his soul, but rather than a crossroads demon like he expected it turns out he made a deal with a Kight of Hell. A mysterious demon named Dean, a human name that matched the man he once was. The more time he spends with Dean Castiel sees the human inside the demon. However Dean has an agenda that Castiel can't fathom, and it seems his normal life as a priest was not as normal as he once believed. Castiel becomes ensnared in the twisting puzzle of where Dean's loyalties lie.Are the emotions Dean begins to show Castiel real or just another device to manipulate him. Can a demon truly love a human? Can a priest truly give himself over to a passion he was taught his whole life to hate? Is the future set in stone or can destiny be overcome with free will?  Castiel is faced with a choice that could potentially destroy everything he cares about. Does he save the world or the person he has grown to love?<br/> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here I stand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dancing with the Devil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511698) by [fath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fath/pseuds/fath). 



> Ok I have a few things I wanna get out of the way before we start this little fic. One if you notice some similarities between the first chapter of this fic and afaithfulwriter890's Dancing with the Devil fic it is because I read the first chapter and I got inspired and wanted to make it my own I haven't read the rest of the fic so any other comparisons are incidental. I am not trying to rip them off just wanted to take the bare bones idea in another direction. Secondly I know Sebastian Roché, is French-Scottish but for the hell of it and simplicity I'm making Balthazar British because the way he speaks in the show his accent and word choices come across more British than Scottish to me. Thirdly crossroads Louisiana is a fictional town drawing from real history so if it sounds similar to a real life event but the timeline is off its probably because I borrowed elements for the story. I borrow elements of season 9 and 10 so spoilers also I'm embarrassed to say it but I use the word loins at one point and I'm sorry in advance but crotch, cock or dick sounded too crude for the moment genitals felt too clinical and everything else felt too childish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a correction I realized that in a later chapter I actually set his birthday down as August 20th meaning he would be 25 turning 26 not already 26

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Supernatural world, which is trademarked by the CW, and Eric Kripke. Both Castiel and Dean are characters created and owned by Eric Kripke, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of the canon. As much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me, I have no money. This story is not designed to be an accurate depiction of a BDSM relationship their mantra is safe, sane, and consensual and I can’t guarantee that this story will be all three at the same time. This is a fantasy, not reality.

Crossroads, Louisiana July 31st, 1950

The night air was balmy, the cicadas buzzed peacefully off in the distance. Without a breeze, the air felt heavy. The Crossroads were on the outskirts of town; the light was minimal cast only by the full moon. He could make out vague shapes of the herbs he planted around the crossroads in an attempt to focus its energies. The box in his hand held graveyard dirt, a black cat's bone, and a picture of himself all the necessary ingredients for the summoning. Castiel’s palms were sweating. His clerical collar felt overly tight rubbing against his throat. For the tenth time, he felt overdressed and wrong but at the same time it gave him comfort. He would trade his soul in exchange for thirty-three lives.

It was hard to gauge the exact center, but he began on one end and casually measured it with his paces. His heels were digging into the soft gravel clay combination of the packed earth as he stepped. After about fifteen paces across, he turned back crouching in what he could best judge as the middle of the earthen road. This plan was lunacy; he thought again. Even if it did work what then? He would have sold his soul to a monster. It was not hard for him to believe in evil when one believed in God you also had to believe in the Devil. He had seen his fair share of the evils of this world, he simply feared the evils of the next. Still no one had answered his prayers, and he was running out of options. The earth was dry, and he made quick work with his shovel. Once the hole was big enough to cover the metal tin, he placed the box inside encasing it with the layer of dirt. He rose slowly not sure what he expected. He scanned the roadway. No one had appeared in the five seconds that had passed since he buried the box. He was half starting to hope that no one would appear when he heard a gruff voice from behind him.

“Evening, Padre.”

Slowly almost against his will he spun to see the man. The lore said that demons would appear beautiful to tempt you into making a deal, he had expected a woman, except of course the demons would know where his desires truly lay.

The man was sinfully attractive it was the only word for it. He was tall, taller than Castiel’s five foot eleven inches. His hair was a sandy brown, but the few days’ worth of stubble on his face was golden blond. His eyes were a startling new leaf green and they seemed to almost glint with mischief. He wore blue denim fabric pants he had seen a few of the local cowboys wearing, but the cut was different it was form fitting and slung lower on his hips. He also wore a black T-shirt with a soft looking burgundy button up left open over it. Castiel swallowed hard; this was going to be harder than he thought to stay objective.

“Good evening,” Castiel finally managed to utter his good manners catching up to him regardless of the strangeness of this situation.

The other man smirked at his response. The man; no demon was studying him. He had expected a detailed perusal, he had not expected that the examination would be sexually charged. The demon started at his toes and traveled up lingering in ways that surprised him, by they time his gaze reached his face Castiel was sure that he was blushing he could feel the heat on his face. After several moments of awkward silence, the demon spoke up “Do you wanna tell me why you’re here Padre?”

Castiel blinked rapidly; he had assumed that the demon would know why. He wasn’t sure where to place his hands they were sweating.

“I-I thought… I want to sell my soul.” The demon smiled warmly. It was a nice smile.

“I gathered that.” He agreed. Castiel clasped his hands together nervously before waving them trying to convey action without saying the words. “How do I?” the demon chuckled. “That eager are you?” He teased. A strange little flip flop feeling dipped in his stomach. “Well first you have to tell me what you want for it,” he continued. Castiel looked away again. This whole experience was turning out differently than he thought it would. The demon wasn’t sinister or malevolent. He thought that it would be different. He thought he would feel righteous next to the creature of evil.

The demon raised a brow, and he stepped closer. “You could always stick to the basics” he prompted Castiel was too stunned by his closeness to stop him. “Love, money, fame, sex?” He finished suggestively “Uh.” Castiel gasped before clearing his throat quickly “No… no, I know what I want.” Castiel added hastily.

“Alright, Padre lay it on me.” He continued with an open-armed gesture.

***

Crossroads, Louisiana three days earlier.

He stared down at the pages willing the numbers to rearrange themselves in a way that would allow the orphanage to remain open. Except no matter how many times he crunched the numbers he could not eek out enough money from the church funds to change things. He had already donated his meager salary towards the orphanage, but it made no difference they would have to shut down. Castiel remembered his time in the foster system with trepidation. Not all who took in children did so out of the kindness of their heart, and he feared for the children. He had grown quite fond of them. So had sister Hester. The church itself was failing. If he scrimped, he might be able to keep it open a year. It was a small parish and the support from Rome was not what it used to be. He had come to terms with the church closing it was God’s will he had just hoped that he would have had the time to find all the children suitable homes before they had to close. Our Lady of the Angels had been his home for the better part of two decades ever since his 6th birthday first in the orphanage then later as its priest. He was loathe to leave it. He would likely be given a position at another church, but this place would always be his home.

A knock on the door brought his attention away from the pages. It was late for him, after ten he expected to see his foster brother Gabriel on the other side of the door instead it was his friend Balthazar. He was a handsome if bedraggled man in his fifties He met Balthazar at a Church outreach program for those with a criminal backgrounds. While the church had been unable to find Balthazar a job that overlooked the laundry list of strange charges he did find a friend in Castiel. The man was a harmless reformed thief. He had a few charges for fraud, breaking and entering, and charges for grave desecration. When Castiel asked about the last charges the Brit simply shrugged and replied guardedly that he had been looking for loose change. While he did not believe that particular remark Castiel saw the good man beneath his carefully crafted devil may care façade. Balthazar had sworn to him that he had left his former life behind. He had severed ties with his former friends who he liked to refer to as his hunting buddies. He had tried to turn over a new leaf Castiel could respect that.

The man currently however was very drunk. “Hey, Cassie.” He piped up leaning heavily on the door frame. “It’s good to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Castiel replied dryly. This was not the first time that Balthazar had suddenly appeared at his door late one night, but it was the first time he had been this dunk.

“Ah, sorry about this, some bloke bet me a twenty that I couldn’t drink the whisky bottle in a single sitting.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his friend. Gambling?

“Well I suppose you learned your lesson.” He insisted gruffly examining his green tinged friend.

Balthazar shifted precariously on the door frame and pitched forward slightly before Castiel caught his shoulder. He held a crisp bill in front of Castiel’s face. Jackson’s pale green face stared back at him.

“So did he.” He added with a grin.

Castiel rolled his eyes. It wasn’t priestly, but he was human and Balthazar always found a way to get under his skin. They had known each other for a few years now, but they had grown closer ever since he was first ordained. Balthazar was a bit rough around the edges but he was a loyal friend.

“Well yes, would you like some water?” Castiel asked trying to regain his focus.

Balthazar nodded and lurched towards the table. The back of the church hosted his living quarters which consisted of a small serviceable kitchen or at least it was serviceable one upon a time. He sold most of the appliances trying to raise money for the church. His meals consisted of mostly peanut butter and grape jelly, and while he thoroughly enjoyed the repast it was growing tiresome. One could only eat so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before craving variety.

Once he settled Balthazar comfortably at the table he approached the cupboard. He pulled down a glass and stepped over to the sink hoping that Balthazar would not vomit.

When he turned to offer the glass to his friend he saw that the man was examining the books that he had spread across the table. Castiel felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he hadn’t yet told anyone other than Sister Hester at the possibility of the church closing. It felt too much like a failure on his part.

“You’re losing the church?” Balthazar asked his words slightly slurred, but the concern and sorrow was there.

Castiel tried not meet his eyes as he set the glass next to the man and began gathering up his books.

“Yes” he answered simply in a subdued whisper. There was no sense in lying. Balthazar was not unintelligent even drunk he was able to understand the church’s lack of funds from the books.

“Damn I’m sorry Cassie.” Balthazar swore the heartfelt regret showing on his face.

Castiel didn’t flinch at his language but he could feel the burn of his pity on his skin.

He shrugged simply “If it is God’s plan for me than who am I to argue with it?”

“That’s daft.” Balthazar insisted trying to stand and wobbling as he pushed away from the table.

“This church is your home of course you have a right to be angry.”

Castiel was hesitant to agree with Balthazar’s assessment even if he felt that the sentiment was true.

He wobbled again. “Ugh I might vomit.” He muttered to himself. Castiel ignored that comment and continued.

“God works in…”

“So help me if you say mysterious ways I really am going to vomit.” Balthazar threatened

Castiel swallowed the words he had been intending to say and shook his head. His friend’s lack of faith was not unfounded. He had a hard life and it was understandable that he blamed God for much of his pain, but it was a point of contention between them.

Castiel obviously had faith he was a man of God it was a requirement, he had been raised to believe that God had a plan for everyone. It brought order to his existence. It made the messy corners of his life tidy.

His biological parents didn’t abandon him because he was found wanting but because he had a calling to serve God. Growing up in Our Lady of the Angels orphanage was what helped set him on the right path to serve God.

It put him at peace knowing that his life meant something. He was happy to serve. When as a teenager he realized that he could never settle down with a good woman and start a family, it was an easy decision to turn to the church.

“I am aware of your lack of faith.” Castiel agreed. “But God has a plan for us all whether you choose to accept it or not.”

Balthazar snorted loudly. “Only you Cassie can say that without sounding like a prig.”

Castiel frowned but ignored the comment when his friend wobbled again catching himself heavily against the table.

“You need to sleep.” Castiel declared. Stepping forward Balthazar easily looped his arm over his shoulder and allowed Castiel to support him. Castiel began leading him towards his bedroom. Castiel would take a cot out and sleep in the kitchen. He kept the cots in case the church ever had to offer shelter to the homeless. It never occurred to him that he could have placed Balthazar on the cot and kept his bedroom to himself.

“What are you going to do?” Balthazar asked. Castiel assumed that he was confused and wanted to know where he was taking him.

“You can sleep in my room.”

Balthazar pushed him away. “No, about the church?” Balthazar continued.

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?” He asked now puzzled himself.

He tried to urge him forward but Balthazar dug in his heals forcing Castiel to stop.

“How are you going to save the church?”

Castiel sighed he wished things could be different he truly did. “I’m not.” He replied as if the answer was simple.

There was nothing that he could do the church was nearly out of money. “There is nothing I can do.” He replied.

“I don’t understand you Castiel Collins.” Balthazar said quietly. There was a strange solemnness to him that Castiel had never seen before. “I thought you would be a fighter.”

His words stung. He wanted to fight, he wanted to change things but he was following God’s plan, there was nothing he could do he was just one man.

“What can I do?” he asked

Balthazar frowned “Following orders again are we Castiel.” He mused. Yet his words made no sense.

“You are drunk.” He insisted fondly. Trying to move his friend back towards the bedroom.

“And you are a coward.” Balthazar added.

Castiel had to admit that it was painful, but he knew that Balthazar’s words weren’t how he really felt he was drunk and upset.

“What I am is not an issue you need to go to bed.”

Balthazar frowned. “I thought you would be different.” He said quietly, but he followed when Castiel pulled lightly on his arm.

He wasn’t a monk, while he had no specific requirements of poverty he kept his life simple even before he was forced to sell most of his possessions.

His bedroom had been only simple a nightstand and a single bed, now it was just a cot, but it still felt like home. He decorated with his paintings. It was one of his favorite pastimes, it was soothing to him. He painted things he saw in nature. Flowers animals he admired nature. It was where God’s glory shown brightest of all.

Balthazar leaned heavily against the wall staring at a paining he made it was a honey bee in a garden. He admired bees, the way they followed the route of flowers. It was all right there, the whole plan. There's nothing to add. Their life was simple.

“What is with you and bees?” he wondered. Castiel tried to push the man forward.

“You… you’re different…” Balthazar turned back to him pointing drunkenly at him shaking his head slowly “…And yet… yet you’re so much the same.” He continued veering towards the bed.

“shh.” He began trying to soothe him not wanting the man to become disruptive.

Balthazar fell into his bed Castiel didn’t bother trying to undress the man. “I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.” Balthazar muttered into Castiel’s pillow.

“What would you have me do?” he asked “I have nothing left to give.” He insisted at the end of his rope. He wasn’t lying when he said there was nothing he could do. He would give his entire being away to save this church if he could. Not just for himself but for the children in the orphanage and all the people he could help in his community. He wanted to save the church but he couldn’t he had nothing of value left. “You’ve got your soul.” The inebriated man replied. He seemed as if he lost the thread of the conversation. He was blinking rapidly as if he was trying to hang on to consciousness.

Castiel shook his head he had no idea where this was coming from, but he chalked it up to drunken rambling.

“Goodnight.” He insisted covering Balthazar with the blanket. After waiting a few moments by the door to see if his friend got up again he relaxed realizing that the man was settled when he heard him snore.

He returned back to the kitchen where he continued to poor over the books until late into the night. It was four when he laid down on his cot to sleep.

However he couldn’t sleep the cot was uncomfortable and Balthazar’s words echoed in his mind. Balthazar thought he was a fighter. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to save the church. There was nothing he could do. He kept reminding himself that this was out of his hands now that it was part of God’s plan. That there was no way to get the money he needed in time. He tried fundraisers, he sold everything of value he had.

Later if he had to pinpoint it. This was the beginning of his harebrained scheme. The idea leapt to his sleep deprived brain and would not be dislodged. Balthazar himself suggested it. He had one thing of value left.

Without considering it further he leapt up and walked quickly to his bedroom. Balthazar was fast asleep on his cot. Castiel was forced to shake him violently to get him to respond to his questions. Even then he was sluggish and confused.

“Bloody Hell!” he shouted waving his arm towards him. “You said I could sell my soul.” Castiel told him. “Were you being serious? Can such a thing be done?”

Castiel wasn’t sure if he was still drunk or merely confused by sleep, but he answered slowly and stiltedly.

“Cooourse.” His words where muttered in to the pillow. The words felt like they were pulled from him. “How?” he asked.

“You summon a demon.” Balthazar continued.

“A demon?” Castiel asked clinically he wasn’t going to do it. At least he didn’t think he would he just needed to know if it was possible.

“Then what?” he continued nearly whispering

“You make a deal.” He groaned rolling over.

Castiel stepped away from him. In that moment he was prideful he knew what demons were and what they did. They tempted humanity it wasn’t the demons themselves that were the evil but giving into temptation. He was smarter than that stronger he would remain uncorrupted.

***

“I want you to bring them back?” Castiel continued clenching his fists. This was right he knew that while it was wrong to deal with a demon if he could save them his soul was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. The demon chuckled.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific Padre.” He said he laughed again his white teeth standing out in the moonlight.

“The children, Sister Hester, Sister Rachel and Brother Inias. Thirty-three lives.”

“An ambitious one aren’t you.” He murmured quietly. He was standing casually his thumbs where hooked into his belt loops his hands resting on either side of the front his pants. Castiel fought the urge to allow them to draw his eyes.

“My soul in exchange for Thirty-three lives, it is more than fair.”

The demon stepped closer the smile broadening on his face.

“Maybe to you, but what do I get out of the deal?”

Castiel’s courage faltered he hadn’t thought that the demon might counter his proposal.

He actually hadn’t thought about anything after the initial summoning and it had been so simple in theory.

“You get my soul.” Castiel said surprised.

“What’s one little soul compared to the energy it takes to bring how many was it? thirty three people back from the dead?”

He stepped closer again if he reached out Castiel would have been able to run his fingers along the stubble on his jaw.

“No, I need a better deal than that to do what you’re proposing.”

Castiel floundered his mouth was agape he wasn’t sure what to say. Everything was falling apart they were dead because of him and he had to make things right.

The demon had turned his back to him. “What do you want?” Castiel asked he couldn’t see the demon’s expression but he could see the pleasure in his body language as he slowly turned.

“I want you.” He said the words without inflection necessary for it to be desire or threat but his mind still ran off with both ideas.

“Excuse me?” Castiel gulped imagining scenarios that would make Sister Agnes, the nun who raised him, want to take a ruler to more than his knuckles. He should have been horrified or sickened but he was a twenty-five year old man who had hidden that part of himself his entire life, he was curious. The shame that usually engulfed him whenever he indulged in such thoughts had been replaced by a tantalizing shiver of something else. He had never known someone like him, it should be an indicator that the man standing in front of him devouring him with his eyes was a demon and malevolent, but the tingling up and down his spine didn’t seem to care that his impulses and the man in front of him were evil. That wicked smile slid back on to the man’s face.

“Don’t get so excited sweetheart you’ll have a heart attack. Not for anything improper so don’t get your hopes up.”

Castiel felt like he couldn’t breathe the blood was pounding in his ears and he wasn’t sure which way was up.

“What do you mean then?”

“Look if you took this deal from my boss you’d get ten years, then you’d be puppy chow, and you’d maybe be able to save a third of the people you want to.”

Castiel nodded more out of habit and acknowledgement rather than any real understanding of the words.

The silence was palpable as the man jerked he head around as if he heard something. He raised his hand up defensively before turning back to Castiel the same devil may care smile on his face the caution completely erased.

“I don’t normally do the sales racket, not really my gig.” He continued where he left off.

Castiel passively filed away that information. One there was an entire sales racket involving souls, two this demon did not usually participate in the sale of souls. Thirdly the demons had a hierarchy.

“I made an exception for you.”

Make that four things. He was somehow different.

“Why?” Castiel asked he didn’t like the way his voice sounded he sounded weak and small.

“Let’s keep a little mystery in this relationship.” The demon continued arrogantly

Castiel frowned. “And if I sign a contract with you?” he asked hesitantly

“ _All_ of your little parishioners and your brother and sisters will no longer be slowly moldering away six feet under.”

Castiel wasn’t a fool, if something sounded too good to be true he knew it would be.

“You said if I signed with your boss I’d get then years.” The demon nodded.

“How long would I get if I signed with you?”

The demon seemed to be doing calculations in his head.

“Seventy two hours.” He said finally

The news floored him. Three days. He would have three days left on earth than an eternity in hell. He balked at the idea. He could suffer hell for the children but he had hoped that he would be able to do a lot more good with his life before he was taken to hell.

“I can see that I need to sweeten the deal.” The demon nearly purred.

“Forty-eight hours and why don’t I just give all your little tykes a home?”

A strange hope bloomed in his chest. All of the orphans would have a home?

Still could he trust a demon to provide suitable homes for his children?

It was obvious the demon was getting frustrated. “Look lets weigh the pros and cons here.” He continued gruffly. “If you pick my boss’s deal, in ten years, Hell hounds will hunt you, and they will catch you and eviscerate you then you’ll go to the pit. You’ll be tortured in unspeakable ways. Ways that aren’t even physically possible and will have all the humanity burned out of you until you are one of us . . . But, if you go with me, you will be _mine,_ body and soul, my slave, my servant whatever you want to call it for ten years,”

Castiel frowned. “So I’m not going to die?” he asked.

The demon smiled again all traces of his impatience vanished. “I can’t do that darling, some day you will die, but for the next ten years you won’t age, you won’t die, your children and your church. Yeah I’ll even throw in saving your church if you come with me tonight, will prosper.”

Castiel still wasn’t sure if this was even real. He understood why the devil would want him. He could torture him and make him burn in hell but he didn’t understand why a singular demon would break the natural order of things and keep him for himself.

“I’m not sure, I still don’t understand . . . What does . . . being ‘yours’ mean?”

The demon smirked. “It means whatever I want it to mean. It means I want you on ice and out of this world for the time being and it’s better than the pit that’s all you need to know about it.”

Castiel still wasn’t sure what the demon wanted from him but he knew that the deal wouldn’t get any better than this. Still something niggled at him

“I don’t understand why you would do this for me.”

“Trust me, this is purely self-interest on my part sweetheart.”

“Now do we have a deal?” he asked. There was something in his tone that screamed of finality that if Castiel did not accept the deal now he would never get another chance. It made his choice simple.

All the worry that had pooled in his stomach vanished. It was done there was no going back.

The man before him eyes flashed black and it reminded him that he was giving himself over to that monster he shuddered.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked trying not to stare at its eyes.

The demon chuckled. “Making a deal with a demon is a bit more physical than that.”

Castiel stared and then the thought came to him. Blood. He needed to sign in blood. He nodded extending his hand expecting the demon to cut him. He stepped forward prepared for anything except what came next.

The demon’s black eyes flashed back to the startling green and he advanced he gently took his wrist in his hands. His hands were coarse and warm, pinning him in place without actually forcing him. Castiel was frozen as his hands traveled across his arm and up along his shoulder to rest at on his cheek. He angled his face towards Castiel’s one hand dropping to his waist pulling him closer the other dipped backwards to cradle the base of his skull in his hands. They stood chest to chest their bodies’ tantalizingly flush against each other. His skin seemed to gain an extraordinary sensitivity. He could feel the brush of the other man’s body on his chest the rasp of his shirt against his nipples suddenly felt sensual rather than circumstantial. Then he lowered his lips towards him. they looked soft and inviting but his jaw was rugged he tried to imagine what the stubble along his jaw would feel like but his brain was lacking vital statistics to even picture it.

Then the demon paused. Inches from his face. He was watching Castiel.

“W-what are you doing?” Castiel gasped ashamed at how breathless his voice was and how physically excited he was by the idea of this man holding him so. He wasn’t fully aroused, not yet but every hair on his body was on edge and he could feel the stirrings of desire spiraling down to heat his loins.

“I am waiting.” He replied his tone was also different it was roughed deeper his breath ghosted across his lips causing a tingling across them.

Castiel licked his suddenly dry lips. The demon’s eyes narrowed as his focus was fixed on his mouth.

“For what?” He asked.

“You have to say yes.” The demon continued.

“What?” managed to ask in another shuddering gasp.

“To the deal, it is sealed with a kiss.”

“Oh.” He panted knowing his mouth formed the symbol perfectly.

He knew the demon was also enjoying the closeness. He might be naive when it came to his own responses but he knew what the physical reactions were and the hot length pressed against his stomach could not be mistaken for anything else.

“Yes.” He agreed breathlessly.

The words were barely out of his mouth when it was immediately covered by his. His lips were just as soft as his imagined but the kiss was nothing like a woman’s. This wasn’t Castiel’s first kiss. That honor had been taken long ago when he had hopes of settling down and starting a family. When he had been inexperienced enough to think that sex was something a man could do at will and mental determination alone would allow him to consummate a lie.

This kiss was however the first that moved him. His erection screamed to life full force. Turgid with the rush of heat and blood. The strings of desire pulling tautly inside his belly causing a fire, he had kept blanketed for years with guilty late night jerking’s of his own hand on his swollen cock when no other means of release could be had, to roar to life a towering inferno. The other man’s lips moved against him in a rhythm and pace that Castiel could not predict but his body moved with him.

A moan crept past his lips and the demon swallowed it with a growl shifting his hips grinding against his erection providing a taste of the friction he never knew he needed.

His tongue slid along the seam of his lips in a delicious sinuous slide slipping into his mouth possessing his senses with delirious black craving that stole his sanity making him the other man’s possession.

Then it was over. Castiel stood along panting, trying to control the racing of his heart, he wasn’t truly along the demon was still there standing in front of him. Looking less affected by the kiss than he felt but not impervious to its effects.

“We have an accord.” He said his lips were red and Castiel knew his own would match.

“Who are you?” Castiel managed to pant.

“My name is Dean.” The demon replied.

The name oddly seemed to match the man but not Castiel’s idea of a demon.

“A human name?” he said stunned.

“For a human man, once upon a time.” The demon confirmed with a grin.

“You were human?” he asked trying to picture this man as human.

“A long time ago, or maybe a long time from now, but that’s a story for another time.” He replied cryptically.

“Are we going to hell now?” Castiel asked knowing that he agreed to leave tonight but not sure how they would leave and when they would go. It was difficult to steer his brain back towards his impending doom and away from the heated moments before.

“No, you are going home with me, but I have some things to take care of first so I’ll catch up with you. Since I’m such a saint I’ll let you say goodbyes. See you before dawn.” Suddenly he snapped and Castiel was back in his church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI adjusted for inflation $20 is more like $270.67 so some poor SOB just lost his rent money to Balthazar


	2. What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not really religious myself so if I mess up that aspect I'm sorry. I'm not trying to offend anyone but struggling with faith is a large part of Castiel's character in any incarnation.

The angel was gone. He had sent him packing back to his church but Castiel wasn’t an angel, Dean needed to remember that. In this reality he was the one with all the power and he wanted to keep it that way. Which brought him back to his task at hand.

“You can come out now.” He called out to the figure in the darkness. When he waylaid Castiel’s crossroad’s demon he hadn’t thought the bastard would catch up to him so soon he was almost impressed.

The figure stepped out from the darkness the man wasn’t unattractive but Dean had to admit with a tinge of arrogance he was more attractive. He was young barely older than a teenager. His black hair was spiked around his face in artful disarray. He wore a black leather jacket over a dark colored shirt and black slacks he blended into the night, it wasn’t surprising that the human never saw him. His dark eyes looked wide in his lean pale face. The smirk only emphasized his mouth, and one sardonic brow was raised showing an ennui long beyond his meager years, but the body was just a meat suit even if it did look a familiar. The demon beneath was the one that Dean had pissed off. Dean was more than willing to take this one on.

“You stole my client.” He called out his accent decidedly British, his tone was calm and his hands rested casually in his jacket’s pockets as he strode slowly towards him, but Dean didn’t mistake the nonchalance as weakness. The man’s calm was a carefully crafted disguise.

“And?” Dean asked not really in the mood to deal with this ass hat right now he was still trying to wrap his brain around the angel being real and not some weird figure of his imagination.

“I think I’m at least entitled to an explanation.” The other demon replied haughtily lifting his chin slightly to peer up at Dean, the gesture made him appear self-possessed rather than weak. Dean rolled his eyes            

“I needed _him_ , so I took _him,_ end of story.” Dean said firmly. Not really caring how the other demon clenched his fist in anger. He wasn’t used to being questioned by other demons, the guy was just a punk ass crossroads demon after all and he was itching for a fight.

It didn’t seem to matter how long he had been a demon it was still hard to control the seething anger boiling underneath his skin. Half the time he wanted to rip into everything and bathe in the blood the other half of the time he wanted to tear off his own skin. He could normally transfer that anger into to other channels like sex, or he could tamp it down with alcohol, but it was always there.

“I should rephrase,” the man began calmly before a storm of anger burst forth. “Tell me where you get off stealing my bloody clients?” he demanded angrily his eyes flashing from a brown to crossroads red. Never one to be intimidated Dean stepped towards the other demon.

“I’d take a closer look asshole before picking a fight with me, you are outclassed.” He insisted his own eyes shifting to black with a grin stepping closer holding his hands wide “In more ways than one.” He added gruffly with a cheeky grin.

Unlike humans other demons were able to see his true face, but they hadn’t seen one of his kind in over eighty years and even then the Kights of Hell had always been a special order they didn’t play well with others and kept amongst their own order.

He could see the calculation on the other demon’s face. He didn’t want to tangle with Dean, he recognized him for what he was but he also couldn’t abide another demon poaching in his territory. Demons were territorial to a fault and only the strong survived or the devious.

Dean rotated his neck easing the tenseness there. He shook loose his shoulders he was more than ready to do this if he had to. It was no skin off his nose killing another demon, back home he had body count a mile wide, angels, demons, humans, whoever got in his way.

“What’s so special about him?” the demon finally asked resigned he was curious but he wasn’t going to fight him.    

“That’s what I am trying to find out.” Dean muttered off handedly and was about immediately dismiss the other demon entirely from his mind when an idea occurred to him, where he knew the meat suit from.

“Crowley?” he asked without conviction something about the man smacked of the king of the crossroads and usurper king of hell.

The demon paused and ran his eyes up and down him again. Dean could see it now, it was the same vessel he wore now only considerably younger, and it was interesting to think that Crowley was the sentimental type.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” he accused genially, but there was mistrust in his eyes. Not that Dean blamed him it would be almost sixty years before they would actually meet. Honestly it was probably rotten luck that they ran into each other like this. Altering the past always caused ripples, but then again taking Castiel’s deal was likely going to cause more ripples than he would be able to account for, but he would have to deal with that later.

Dean extended his hand and Crowley looked it with obvious disdain before ignoring it completely. Dean pulled back and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, yeah he should have seen that one coming, Dean had snubbed him, and Crowley never reacted well to being discounted. Dean chuckled at the strange turn of events. He came back for Abaddon, and things quickly got out of hand first with Castiel then when with Crowley. Time travel wasn’t a straight line, not anymore the Apocalypsechanged all of that. This may be a mess he would have to live with he would have to make the best of it and mend bridges.

“Actually…” Dean began aiming for boyish knowing in the past that Crowley always had a bit of a soft spot towards him, and manipulating it wouldn’t hurt.

“I work for you.” Dean continued. Crowley raised a brow obviously torn between believing him or laughing in his face. Fucking time travel, he wished that bastard Alfie had explained it a bit better, but that’s what happens when you use torture to get information.

“Ok, not yet, I don’t, but I do.” He continued expressing himself with all the grace of an angry two year old.

Crowley shifted his weight relaxing slightly back on his heels,

“You have my attention sweetheart.” Crowley replied removing his hand from the inside pocket of his jacket.

It wasn’t until then that Dean noticed an eerily familiar knife, he had the same impression of the knife that he had with Castiel, he had seen it before but at the same time he knew he hadn’t.

“What’s with the pig sticker?” Even as he asked he knew what it was a demon-killing knife of the Kurds.

“What this old thing?” Crowley asked ostensibly. “Can’t blame a girl for being prepared.” he insisted straightening his jacket. It was strange seeing the demon in anything but a suit.

 

“Now let’s get back to the bit where you work for me?” Crowley began his tone disaffected,

“How is that possible when I haven’t even met you?” Dean wasn’t sure how much he should reveal, while the real Crowley, shit, the Crowley from his time period was his boss this particular Crowley had now power over him, it was enough to make his head hurt. While he was weighing the benefits of telling Crowley the truth the future king of hell answered for him.

“Of course, time travel.” He mused absently rubbing his jaw.

Dean was impressed yet again, but then again Crowley didn’t raise through the demon ranks on looks alone. The man was impossibly crafty he had always been one step ahead of his enemies.

 

“Listen,” Dean started “I don’t really have time to explain this right now.” he groused. He was getting a strange pinching sensation behind his eyes.

“Such a flirt, all tease and no satisfaction,” Crowley taunted lightly when Dean didn’t answer it was obvious he lost his temper. “You’re a bloody time traveler. Make time!” Crowley shouted. Dean frowned as the tightness in his head increased it was making his eyes tear up.

“You’re gonna play hard to get?” Crowley accused stepping closer.

His head began to ache in earnest. As a demon he was impervious to most human maladies, but these headaches weren’t natural. He screwed his eyes shut trying to block out the now sudden brightness of the pale moonlight.

A vision flashed before his eyes like a strobe light, pieces of the present and the vision intermingled until he wasn’t sure which one was reality. He knew he was doubled over in pain, he could see Crowley’s puzzled expression as he stared at him as if he was a microbe in a Petri dish. Then he was in an old building, a workshop maybe, the building smelled like spray paint, a collection of strange herbs and mildew. The walls, celling, and floor were covered in a collection of symbols, he couldn’t quite connect with the meaning behind the symbols and yet at the same time he was aware that it was meant as magical binding.

In the vision he knew he was human, he knew that because he could feel his heartbeat and his soul. The vision felt like a memory, but he knew that this had never happened to him. There was another human with him, he recognized the man his name was on the tip of his tongue, but his brain rebelled before completing the thought. The old beat up trucker cap, the flannel shirt it all felt achingly familiar. In the hallucination he raised his shot gun, in his peripheral vision the other man joined him and they fired upon a third man quickly advancing on them.

He was a handsome brooding man with dark chocolate colored hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a suit with a loosened tie beneath a trench coat. He watched the shots they fired explode impacting him ripping his clothing but producing no damage to his body, as he advanced at a measured pace. Dean was experiencing fear and surprise he had never seen a creature like this one before. The vision blurred he wasn’t sure how much time had passed he was kneeling next to the other man, feeling his steady pulse beneath his fingertips, he was worried, he could not lose another person, worried that he made a mistake. He felt his lips form the words and in the vison but his real ears could not hear his voice he was glancing up at the invader. The assailant showed no sign of emotion he was calm, cautious, but not afraid.

“Who are you?” Dean asked in the revelation.

“Castiel.” The other being replied insouciantly not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Dean replied nervously licking his lips trying to decide if he would be able to protect the unconscious man at his feet. “I mean what are you?” The creature looked over at him and a shock of recognition shot through him crackling along his nerves like electricity.

“I'm an Angel of the Lord.” He replied his clear blue eyes met his and he knew who this man before him was.

Dean held his head as the vision passed. It was the same as before only more vivid. This human, this Castiel, was not an ordinary man.

“Holy mother of sin, that was interesting.” Crowley murmured fascinated it was obvious that he had seen something thought-provoking in Dean’s current situation that Dean did not.

Dean was still reeling these visions he’d been having felt tangible, while he was having them they felt like reality. It was disconcerting, he shoved away at weakness and uncertainty he was feeling. He was a demon for hell’s sake not a sniveling human, he hadn’t been a human for years and now was not the time to start acting mortal.

“Listen I’ve got a job to do.” Dean growled pulling himself up to a standing position. “And only a few more hours left to do it, don’t come crying to me when it I come back and it’s not done.” Dean insisted breathing hard. Every time he had a vision for days afterwards he had a hard time controlling his emotions.

Demons didn’t really have emotions like humans did. They had hate, lust, greed and craven self-preservation, beyond that they didn’t exactly hit a full spectrum of moods, but these visons allowed him to full range of emotions and they were becoming more frequent. It was getting damned annoying.

Crowley frowned. “Don’t think this conversation is over.” He insisted jabbing at Dean with his finger but before he could finish what would no doubt continue to be some kind of threat about crossing him Dean teleported away.

 

Teleporting without a particular destination was tricky, it was random usually connected with whatever you were thinking about when you transported which was why Dean found himself standing outside of a small white church. Of course, the man was effecting his brain, he was like a cancer, a weird handsome little tumor in his brain eating away at him. Today was the first time he had seen the human, but his visions of him had been plaguing him since the apocalypse started.

           He looked into the window before him, he could see Castiel standing seemingly stunned in the kitchen, apporting had a tendency to do that to humans. There was something about the human that confused him. Except he didn’t have time to ponder that issue now. He had to find Abaddon. He had wasted enough time on the human, he needed to catch that bitch before she had a chance to go underground. The next time she resurfaced wouldn’t be for another eight years and Dean wasn’t sure how many more time jumps Alfie had in him, the little angel was about tapped.

            Dean actually felt sorry for the little guy Crowley was really doing a number on him. Dean frowned, there it was again. Sympathy, it wasn’t supposed to be in his wheelhouse and here he was feeling emotions he shouldn’t be capable of it was fucking annoying.

Perturbed Dean turned away from the handsome human in the window, he could deal with the enigma wrapped in a riddle known as Castiel later. He had no idea what body Abbadon would be possessing, she wouldn’t pick her current meatsuit Josie for a few more years at best, and honestly he really didn’t want to kill Josie if he didn’t have to she had an amazing body and it really would be a sin for him to have to carve it up.

***

Castiel stood in the kitchen for several moments trying to catch up with the strange turn of events. He was going away, for at least ten years, as a servant of a demon. The magnitude of what he had done hit him full force. He was leaving his entire life behind. All that he worked for, sold his soul for, would be beyond his reach. While the demon said he wouldn’t actually die he might as well be, for all the rest of the world would know. He sold his soul to a demon and he couldn’t tell the people of his community. Balthazar, his foster brother Gabriel, the members of his church.

They would think he was dead or worse that he abandoned them. Part of him wanted to run to the orphanage to see if what the demon said was true. He wanted to see with his own eyes that the children were safe, and yet he was fearful. He had seen the black burnt out hulking remains of the orphanage once before. If it was still there, if the demon lied and he sold his soul for nothing he would rather believe the lie. He couldn’t see it again. His whole life he had feared being ostracized he had treasured his acceptance because he knew that if his secret ever became public, he would lose it all. Now what he feared most had come to pass in a way he could never have predicted. The demon said that he could make his goodbyes but he wouldn’t. He was a coward. He realized that he had been standing there for so long that his knees had grown stiff. Absent mindedly he walked towards the table and sat heavily.

There was more than losing his soul that he needed to come to terms with. His entire life he had known that he was attracted to men. He was also very much aware that such desires were sinful. Tonight was the first time he had ever acted on his impulses, Castiel did not think that it was a coincidence that it was the night that he sold his soul to a demon. Something the demon said ate away at him like acid. That his time in hell would slowly warp and corrupt him into being a demon. When he was young one of the priest must have sensed that something was sinful about him. Castiel could not recall any particular thing that he did that had stood out as sinful. He had always tried to live his life righteously but the priest read to him from revelations 21:8

But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death. He was required to write the verse repeatedly until the message was seared into his brain. He had been eleven years old. The message that he was sinful and needed to atone had been what spurred him forward into the church. He wanted to help people.

The silence at away at his nerves. He couldn’t just sit in the dark thinking about all his failings. The demon hadn’t said when he would return only that it would be before dawn. Nor had he told him if he would require anything while in hell. Castiel thought that if he wasn’t going to die perhaps he might need clothing.   Rather than sit and ponder Castiel stood and moved towards his bedroom. He required action. He didn’t have much in the way of clothing, he didn’t have much use for casual clothing except in private so mostly he possessed several black clerical shirts that could have a tab collar inserted into them and black slacks.

Something about his wardrobe was amusing in his current circumstances. He wanted to laugh and the absurdity of wearing his clerical garments in a hellscape. Mechanically he retrieved his suitcase from the closet and began to pack away his clothing. He hesitated when he came to his chaplet that even now hung on his wrist. He doubted that the demon would appreciate having a holy item in hell, and yet he did not want to part with it, it was the only item he had kept his entire life. It had been left with him when his parents abandoned him at the church as an infant. He had always imagined it as a symbol of his calling to the church.

This particular chaplet consisted of 9 beads made of semi translucent pale green Aventurine gemstones antique silver spacers, caps,medal, andcross, it was dedicated to St. Jude Thaddeus. Likely it was the most valuable item he owned but he had never been able to part with it.

Castiel wasn’t sure what compelled him to but he dropped to his knees at the foot of his bed, he did not usually pray on his knees but at the moment it felt right. He pressed his palms together in supplication. The words came more from memory than any wellspring of true hope.

 

“Most holy Apostle St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the Church honors and invokes you universally as the patron of hopeless cases, of things despaired of.” He paused ashamed the way his voice quavered as he spoke

“Pray for me, I am so helpless and alone; make use, I implore you, of this particular privilege accorded to you, to bring visible and speedy help, where help is almost despaired of. Come to my assistance in this great need, that I may receive the consolations and succor of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations and sufferings, particularly…”

Castiel paused unsure how to continue his case truly was helpless, he felt the need for pray for salvation from despair, and he wanted to beg St. Jude to save him, but he knew that he had no right to pray for help now.

“…For the children’s wellbeing, prosperity, and happiness. So that I may bless God with you and all the elect forever…

I promise you, O blessed St. Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor, and I will never cease to honor you as my special and powerful patron and to do all in my power to encourage devotion to you. Amen.”

The peace that usually flooded him after prayer did not come and he knew it was because he had lost faith. In the days before he made his deal he had prayed himself hoarse hoping for a miracle to save the children, but as always he was met with silence and this time the silence felt damming.  

“Were you planning to say goodbye?” Balthazar asked from the doorway.

Castiel rose quickly surprised at his friends sudden appearance. He had not heard him knock at his door nor any approach.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked surely he could not know about his deal.

Balthazar nodded his head towards the bed and the open suitcase on top of it. Of course Balthazar thought that he was leaving town not earth. Balthazar must have taken his silence as an answer.

“My god man, you were just gonna skip town and not tell anyone weren’t you?” He demanded aghast. Shame washed over him because that was exactly what he had planned.

“Yes.” he replied

Balthazar shook his head heavily “Unbelievable, you know the fire…” Balthazar faltered

“You know that it wasn’t your fault.” He continued his tone soft and companionate as if he thought any show of anger would send him scurrying away like a frightened animal his friends cossetting set his teeth on edge.

“Wasn’t it?” Castiel demanded angrily he wasn’t sure if it was Balthazar’s denial that made him angry or the tiny part of his brain that agreed with him.

“If I had been there. I could have stopped it.”

Balthazar shook his head. “You’re just a man.” He said quietly.

“You would have died.” His voice was firm as if he already knew the outcome.

While he knew what Balthazar said was likely true he couldn’t help but imagine scenarios in which things were different.

Balthazar had a far off look on his face. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He insisted

Castiel couldn’t agree with him more.3

***

The mission was a bust, he hadn’t been able to find Abaddon and he was going to have his ass bitched out by his royal highness when he got home, and yet he didn’t really give two shits about that. All he cared about was getting that human successfully cloistered away. He didn’t know why he was having these visions but now that he knew that this person was real there was no way he was letting him out of his sight.

When he entered the church he could feel a slight buzz on the edges of his senses. Holy ground, but to a demon like him it was just annoying.  

He also knew that Castiel was not alone. He followed the sounds of voices back to what looked like the angel’s bed room.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” A British accent spoke heavily he knew that voice.

Dean’s eyes had flashed black upon entering the church he forced them back to their natural color.

“You ready yet Padre?” Dean asked entering the room casually. It was almost funny the look on the two human’s faces. One anxious surprise the other immediate suspicion and something else.

It was clear that he could not depend on Castiel to create a lie for his appearance and since he did want to freak out the mundanes and cause too many ripples to this time period he came up with the best answer he had at the time.

“I am from the diocese, here to give the Padre a lift.” Dean didn’t really know anything about how the church worked but it was the best he could do.

The other man frowned suspiciously “Is that true Castiel?” he asked there was another layer to his words almost like he knew what was going to happen.

Castiel simply stared stunned his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Dean should have known someone like him wouldn’t know how to lie to save his life.

“Y-Yes.” He finally gulped out Dean grinned trying to be charming and affable. “We best be on our way.” He insisted politely but firmly eyeing the priest. He didn’t want to piss off the locals but he also had a limited window on when he would be able to return. Alfie would be waiting for him at the predesignated spot in little more than five minutes.

“It’s the middle of the night.” The other man began doubtfully. His mistrust was palpable, Dean could almost believe that the other man knew what he was. Come to think of it the man did have something vaguely familiar about him, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was just a side effect of his visions.

“He’s right” Castiel chimed in “I really must be going.” He insisted. There was sadness on his face a heavily guilt there as well. Dean briefly felt bad for taking the human with him. He obviously cared for this older man somehow and the thought of leaving bothered him.

Dean ignored his brief spark of pity and continued.

“We can talk about this more when I get back.” Castiel assured and it was then Dean knew the man could lie if he had to. The look on his face was sublime, a peaceful contemplative despondency that insisted that not only would the man be back but that he was looking forward to future chats with this friend that he knew perfectly well that he would never see again.

The other man relented. “I’ll be waiting.” He asserted firmly almost as a warning to Dean and it was funny that he thought was a threat somehow without even knowing what he was.

With a quick jerk of his head Castiel grabbed his suitcase off the bed and followed him out the door. Once outside the church he teleported them to the designated meeting spot Alfie would take them back to his time and then he would take the angel to his home. It wasn’t in hell exactly it was Limbo the hell adjacent real-estate that was comprised of the outer edges of hell and purgatory. Not really one or the other it suited his needs nicely and was where he built his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> St. Jude, known as Thaddaeus, was a brother of St. James the Less. St. Jude was one of the 12 Apostles of Jesus. In the Roman Catholic Church, he is the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes.
> 
> Also the image for the demon in my story is that of young 19 year old Mark Sheppard. I'm fudging the timeline a bit. Since the years don't add up since he was 19 in 1983. Lets just say that Crowley is able to keep his vessels aging slower.  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/361765782537956964/ 
> 
> Thank You for the comments they really have made my days! I would love to see more.


	3. Take yourself to higher places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time travel guys, its confusing!

Crossroads, Louisiana July 29th, 1950

Castiel knew that he must have slept at some point because he was startled awake by the sound of breaking ceramic and subdued swearing.

“Bloody hell.” Balthazar complained

Castiel sat up and peered over towards the stove. One of the few kitchen items that he had not been able to part with had been his coffee pot. The small metal pot sat on the stove steam emanating from the spout.

The shattered cup was at Balthazar’s feet and the sour look on his face let Castiel know that he was feeling the effects of his previous night’s drinking. He stared at the devastated cup with repugnance before moving stiffly to where he kept the broom in the corner and began to sweep up the pieces.

Castiel had slept in his pale blue set of pajamas the long sleeves and trousers covered his body completely but he was still less then comfortable wearing only his pajamas in the company of others.

“I didn’t think Brits liked coffee?” Castiel said quietly from his cot.

Balthazar emptied the shards into the trash bin and removed a second cup from the cabinet it was one of now three remaining cups from a set of four, all without looking towards him.

“We do,” Balthazar replied cradling the steaming cup in his hand staring lovingly into its depths.

“We just cannot admit to such failings towards queen and country.” He replied softly as he sat at the table.

Castiel stood ignoring modesty in favor of also enjoying a cup of coffee. He was tired and the succor of caffeine was too great a pull.

“Don’t you mean king and country?” Castiel asked thinking of George VI as he poured himself a cup. He took a sip and flinched at the acrid taste while he was not one for overly sweet drinks however this tin of coffee and chicory was a bitter brew and he wished he had sugar.

A startled look crossed Balthazar’s face. “Yes of course, it’s an expression.” He insisted waving a dismissive hand towards him.

Castiel joined him at the table and they sat in silence for several moments once Balthazar had drained his cup he spoke up again.

“Now,” he began with resolution

“What exactly happened last night?”

Castiel debated briefly about telling him the entirety of what happened but thought better of it. He never really intended on going through with a demon deal to save the church but he still couldn’t bring himself to stop considering it.

“A man wagered you that you would not able to drink an entire bottle of whisky.” Castiel replied.

“Ah.” He replied with an exaggerated nod of understanding

“That would explain this buggar of a headache I have.” He murmured.

“Did anything else happen?” he wondered after a pause.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked guardedly  

The older man winked at him roguishly “I woke up in your bed after all.” A start went through him at his implication. How could he know about his predilections?

Balthazar must have found something amusing about his expression because he chuckled loudly only to immediately wince at the action.

“Uhg I really am getting too old for this.” He lamented with a strangely ominous manner.

It was Castiel’s turn to chuckle “As payment for housing you unexpectedly last night I expect you come to the orphanage with me today and help me with the children.”

Balthazar winced again. “Dear God no.” he insisted heavily.

Castiel frowned at the use of the Lord’s name in vain, but he could smile at the sentiment.

Balthazar had never particularly enjoyed working with the children, he had done so on occasion at his request with varied success.

Castiel smiled “Rest easy it was a joke.” The relief of Balthazar’s face was palpable,

“But I would ask you to clean the nave, the aisles and the sanctuary.” His friend scowled. “I expect you want me to do so hung over.” He grumbled.

“How else would you learn?” Castiel insisted. Balthazar rolled his eyes, but he stood. He never truly questioned him.

“Come with me I can show you what needs to be done.” Castiel offered leading the way

“Uh, sweetie, before we go, um, I could remove that stick from your…” Castiel shot his friend a withering look before he could continue he stared Balthazar down he waited when nothing was said he continued towards the church.

“We'll leave it inserted, then. All right, then.” Balthazar muttered to himself irreverently.

Once Castiel showed Balthazar his morning chores he was at a loss for what to do next.

The idea from the night before still had a firm grip on his senses and would not quite let go of him. He was just curious after all. He had fought the superstition of this town all his life, he was more than willing to believe creatures like demons existed and that they grated deals at a price.

While Crossroads did not have a large library the church actually had a large collection of books on matters of demons and superstition. Purely for scholarly preservation of course but perhaps he would find something of interest there.

***

Limbo outskirts of Hell

Hell wasn’t fire and brimstone. Much like the demon in front of him Hell wasn’t what Castiel expected. The expanse before him was oddly human. It was a library, one that would have looked as much at home at Harvard or even the Vatican. The floor was covered by chestnut colored wood that nearly shone in the bright white light from the half domes fixtures suspended from the ceiling. The walls were made of some sort of pale stone, interworked with a dusty colored brick. Several pillars made of the same white stone were spaced about the room as well as rich cherry wood tables and bookshelves. The walls were decorated with an assortment of strange and exciting artifacts, some of them were iconography others were old looking weapons.

Dean dropped his bag and the sound echoed loudly in the hall, it was only then that Castiel realized that the demon had even taken the bag from him.

“Alright Padre, I’ve gotta check in with the boss man, but until I get backmi casa es su casa.” He told him casually. “Pick a bedroom, settle in or something.” He continued indifferently waving to the surroundings.

“Kitchen, Bedrooms, Dungeon.” He explained each word received its own directional gesture. “Stay out of the Dungeon.” He continued with an expression conveying he felt the sentiment was implied.

He paused. “Just ah don’t break anything.” He insisted with a wink and then he was gone. Just as quickly as he had appeared in the center of that crossroads. Castiel was alone. In a hell that looked nothing like hell and he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do.

He ran his hand along the table. The polished wood felt cool and smooth beneath his fingertips. It felt real. Castiel wasn’t sure what he had expected when he agreed to Dean’s deal but this, was not it. The opulence, the freedom it felt wrong. Hell was supposed to be a punishment, this felt like something else altogether.

***

Dean wasn’t that worried about leaving the human alone in his bunker. There was no conventional way outside, so he wouldn’t be able to escape and he doubted that he would get into too much trouble while he checked in with Crowley. Crowley on the other hand would not be happy with his failure. He had been working for Crowley for a few years now after the apocalypse kicked off. He knew the king of hell’s temperament fairly well. While he would excuse a few things incompetence was not one of them. He would catch hell for failing him, but Crowley still needed him.

The Apocalypse in theory was the end of the world but in realty the world went on just with a lot less people in it. The eight years or so since the apocalypse had kept him pretty busy. He had risen through the demon ranks quickly and proven himself valuable, to both Lucifer and Crowley.

Crowley wouldn’t be on Earth, after Lucifer rose, Earth sort of lost its property value it was a dump really. Between the demons, the angels, and the croats there really wasn’t much left.  Hell wasn’t the same either. Hell had always been an awful place which was why demons preferred earth. It was a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear. Crowley changed all that, Hell became a never-ending queue. It went from constant chaos to order. Of course they still tortured souls turning them into demons but he also made life much more livable for the average demon.

Crowley liked to think of himself as a man of the people. His reign as king was a lot nicer than Lucifer’s, and it Dean knew Abaddon’s wouldn’t be any better than Luci’s so he continued to serve Crowley. If Crowley ever got to uppity with him or demanding he just reminded the king who really had the power in this relationship.

Dean entered Hell’s throne room while Crowley had modernized most of Hell the lowest levels were still very medieval. Dark grey stone soaked in blood, torches, chains the whole nine.

Crowley lounged at his throne holding court. Seeing him again Dean wasn’t sure why it took him so long to recognize him the in the 1950’s. The same cunning handsomeness was there along with the Machiavellian need for power, just a few decades later. He saw Dean and straightened in his chair and waved him over.

Dean approached bristling at the king’s flippancy, more and more Crowley was treating him as a servant and that just didn’t sit well with him. Lately their relationship had been a bit strained. Dean knew it partly had to do with the mark, it didn’t help his already lifelong friction with authority figures, but it was also the visions. The constant yo-yoing effect they had on his emotions made an already complicated situation worse.

“Abaddon?” Crowley asked with a quirked brow. “Things got complicated.” Dean insisted gruffly not really wanting to explain the whole priest situation,

Crowley sighed heavily, and waved the others away leaving him and Crowley alone. Dean could feel an angry tick form from clenching his jaw.

What's that old expression? "Success has many fathers; failure is a Winchester"?

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Look you’ll get her head on a pike one way or another.” He insisted he had no love lost for Abaddon and he had every intention of killing her. That bitch had it coming. For the last year she had been a major pain in his ass. After Lucifer left for heaven there was a mad grab for power with Lilith dead her second in command Crowley was the most obvious choice, but about three years ago Abaddon showed up on the scene from nowhere a “barbaric retrogression.” As Crowley put it and made a mad grab for power, disgusted by Crowley’s management style, she didn’t cause too much trouble until about a year ago. After he had taken up the mark. Crowley didn’t believe in coincidences he thought Dean taking the mark triggered something.

“Excuses, excuses.” Crowley muttered Dean ground his teeth. He still needed Crowley so he kept his mouth shut and his opinions to himself.

“Look do you want to lecture me or let me get back to work and kill that bitch?”

Crowley grinned and stood. “See that’s why I like you Dean.” Crowley insisted clapping him on the back. Dean tensed. “You’re just an attack dog that needs a direction.” He ground his teeth again biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood trying to keep his mouth shut and say nothing. With a considerable effort Dean was able to speak in something that didn’t resemble and angry snarl.

“How’s Alfie can we make another trip?” Dean asked focusing his attentions, back on his mission.

“No unfortunately our little angel friend is indisposed, right now.” Dean scowled that meant that he would have to wait for Alfie’s batteries to recharge before he could make the jump back towards Abaddon. In the present she had too much power for a frontal attack. Even though Crowley was slowly trying to build a new order of the Knights of Hell, Dean was currently the only applicant.

Dean nodded. “Seems that a little R&R is in order.” He continued lightheartedly turning to leave glad that he would have some time to deal with the angel before he had to get back to work.

Crowly chuckled “Not so fast, we are going to continue that conversation we started in 1950.”

Dean pivoted slowly trying to feign ignorance but aware that his wariness and surprise showed on his face.

“What was so special about that human?” Crowley asked searching his face for answers Dean didn’t have.

He decided to play dumb after all it had worked for him in the past and he had many enemies underestimate him over the years not that Crowley was one of them but he could never really be that careful.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in what he thought was a genuinely nonplussed voice

“Don’t get cute with me boy, it was 1950 Crossroads, Louisiana and you were wearing that exact shabby chic ensemble.” He claimed with an up and down wave of his arm indicating his clothing.

“Thanks for the wardrobe commentary Crowley, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean insisted

“I have waited sixty six years to have the second half of this conversation,” Crowley growled advancing on him.

“You’re not going to weasel out that easily.” While he was shorter in physical stature he had all the souls of hell behind him, Dean knew he could beat him but not without the first blade, which Crowley wisely kept away from him until it was needed.  

It was a mutually beneficial agreement and Crowley knew as long as it continued to benefit both of them they could put off this fight. Dean didn’t want to rule hell, he wanted to drink, fuck and party to his heart content, but he needed to kill and Crowley needed people dead, that person could just as easily be Crowley as far as he cared. Dean stepped closer using his physical body to intimidate the other man.

“You sure you wanna play this hand through?” Dean asked his voice deadly serious.

Crowley cocked his head to the side eyeing him before stepping away. When he turned back towards Dean he had two glasses of Craig in his hand, he extended his hand allowing Dean to take one. He waited Crowley rolled his eyes but he took a sip of his drink, there wasn’t much that could hurt Dean but being cautious never hurt anyone. Just because you were paranoid didn’t mean they weren’t out to get you.

“That’s the thing about time travel.” Crowley began gently swirling the contents of his glass.

“You create ripples, divergent paths, change one thing and you can change everything.”

Dean frowned not sure what the man was talking about.

“How long have you been having those headaches Dean?” he asked leadingly

“A while.” Dean replied unsure how much he could trust Crowley.

Crowley grinned. “My guess is they are more than just headaches aren’t they?” he asked his voice pitched almost seductively.

“You see things during them.” He continued. He seemed to take Dean’s silence as agreement.

“Flashes of another reality.” He revealed

“An altered time line?” Dean questioned not sure what Crowley was getting at, but realizing that his words fit with what he had seen. In the visions Castiel had been and angel and he had been human, that much was vividly imprinted upon his mind.

“Possibly,” Crowley agreed with a nod.

“Which one is the real one?” Dean asked uncomfortable with the idea of his humanity.

Crowley shrugged. “Both…” he murmured musingly

“…or neither, how the hell am I supposed to know?” Crowley grumbled.

“So what are you saying then?” Dean demanded finding himself growing annoyed with the entire conversation.

“Just making an observation.” He replied with a quirked brow as he made his way indolently back to his throne.

“Cut the crap!” Dean demanded. “Be straight with me, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about, ripples in time, that get bigger and bigger the further off course destiny becomes.” He growled sitting forward emphasizing his words.

“I’m talking temporal paradox. I’m talking a reality breaking event.” He continued through clenched teeth.

“Someone tried to rewrite history and they succeeded, my question is who, and for what purpose?”

“Abaddon?” Dean asked assuming if they struck towards the past to attack her maybe she did the same thing.

Crowley grimaced shaking his head “As much as I’d love to pin this on the bitch, she doesn’t have to clout to pull something like this off.”

“Then who?” Dean wondered.

“Lucifer? Or perhaps one of the other archangels?” he admitted.

“What will happen if things don’t go back to the way it was?” Dean wondered

“How should I know?” Crowley asked. “The timeline is in flux, you are assuming that anyone knows how events are predicted to unfold. By altering the flow of history...thereby creating an entire new chain of incidents, the present and future cannot be anticipated.” Crowley continued standing agitatedly walking towards Dean again.

“Whatever our lives might have been, if the timeline was disrupted, our destinies have changed. The strings of the past are still tied together but the fabric of space-time is shifting, eventually one of three possibilities will come to pass.”

“And those are.” Dean asked knowing he would hate the answers

“The current trajectory will become the only reality, time will right itself and the original reality will take precedence or the rip in space-time will continue to grow until both realities are irreparably tangled and both will cease to exist.”

Dean sighed heavily “sounds awesome.” He replied sarcastically “How do we stop it?”

“What makes you think we can?” Crowley wondered his eyes narrowed.

Dean frowned, unsure. He wasn’t sure but he felt like he could, like saving the world was in his purview.

“I lived through the end of the world, I don’t think we’d make it through the end of our reality… and I kind of like our reality, its where all my stuff is.” He insisted.

Crowley smiled. “My sentiments exactly.”

 

***

Castiel was not inclined to test the demon’s patience immediately by disobeying him so he moved hesitantly in the direction of the bedrooms.

            There were several bedrooms four or so on each side of the hall he couldn’t be sure without further investigation, he gazed inside the first one and immediately knew that this room belonged to Dean. He couldn’t exactly tell why or how he knew, but something about the carefully hung weapons that lined the walls. The neatly made bed, and the books lined up meticulously. It showed the thoughtfulness of someone who had finally found a home and wanted to take care of it. Castiel new the signs well. Growing up he had moved around for years. His first memory was being shuttled to a new home, all his belongings had been packed up for him in a small bag. While he clung to his toy for dear life. He only vaguely remembered, the feel of it in his arms but the comfort he remembered overwhelmed him. It was a small pale blue stuffed elephant, when he squeezed it, it played Brahm’s Lullaby. He remembered clinging to the one thing that was his for all his four year old body was worth.

It wasn’t until his adulthood that he really recognized the church as his home. His room in the rectory reflected him as a person. It was interesting to see that the demon also appreciated simplicity. The amount of furniture was sparse. There was a nightstand next to the bed with a small lamp. A dresser along the right wall, and an armchair besides that. The most personal objects in the room were against the other side the room. A small table held a collection of records. Castiel felt drawn to them, they looked different than the records he was used to and the covers boasted names of bands he didn’t recognize Howard McGhee, Nat King Cole, Led Zeppelin, Kansas. The room was very ordinary, that was what surprised him. It might as well of been a human’s room. He tested the bed the mattress dipped beneath the weight of his hand but clung to him in an unfamiliar way as well.

“Memory foam.” The demon called out informatively. Castiel felt his heart leap into his throat as he spun to see the demon lounging in the doorway. He looked exactly as he had the last time he saw him the black shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest the soft burgundy over shirt, his long legs encased in denim. A wicked grin quirked his lips into distracting shapes. He remembered how they felt against his own. Impossibly soft and yet firm, an insistent pressure to relent give in to pleasure. “Excuse me?” Castiel asked his voice only barely above a whisper.

“The bed, it remembers me.” He replied something about his tone conveyed that he was teasing him somehow. The demon was looking at him again the same way he had in the crossroads starting at his toes and traversing languidly up his body. Castiel remembered the kiss and briefly wondered if the demon was going to… Castiel balked at the wording. Rape wasn’t right, because while he was scared and he knew it was a sin, part of him was curious. Part of him knew that he would never be able to ask for what he might secretly want and the thought of this demon giving it to him was not entirely unwelcome. Ravish? Overcome? Consume?

“Ah.” Castiel managed still leaning against the bed. After a moment he straightened.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do with the human now that he had him. He hadn’t exactly thought that part through. He looked so foreign in his room like a lost little puppy. His eyes had widened when he entered the room, he looked tired. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes and he had a slight bit of growth darkening his jawline. Framing his lips. He looked young Dean estimated mid-twenties, but it was hard for him to gauge human ages anymore. The time he spent in hell aged him. His physical body was the same age it was when he died, about twenty nine, but he had spent a very long time in hell. This man seemed like a child, the man was a priest on top of everything else. Honestly he looked good enough to eat. The man must have sensed the direction of his thoughts because he shifted uncomfortably and a flush traveled up his neck heating his face.  

Dean only had a vague memories of his human life, after all it was several lifetimes ago. If he had to hazard a guess a month on earth felt like ten years in hell, but he had always enjoyed sex, being a demon had only enhanced that portion of his personality.

The kiss between him and the priest at the crossroad was more than the usual sealing of the deal, he had wanted him. Admittedly as a demon it didn’t take much more than a stiff breeze to get him going anymore, but the man’s response had been so genuine and innocent it brought out all the primal parts of his twisted soul.

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to fuck the man in front of him. Grab him toss him on the conveniently located bed face down, rip his pants off. Slide his throbbing cock along his ass until he could slip inside and thrust furiously his free hand pumping along the other man’s cock until they both came, however that wasn’t in the cards.

Crowley was right however, this man was dangerous. He was a ripple of some kind that was why Dean was having visions. Something in the past changed and it was tied to this man Dean was sure of it.

Certain points in time tied people that were destined to meet together, things that were destined to happen together. The problem was, Dean had no way of knowing what had changed at least not yet. Major players in each other's lives could usually recognize the trace of an altered destiny, like a phantom limb. Echoes of what might have been.

Dean didn’t know exactly what it was that changed, but he had a pretty good idea, he had left that part when talking to Crowley but in his weirdo visions Castiel was an angel that was as good as any place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I Love hearing comments!


	4. Fmlyhm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right this chapter has fairly graphic depictions of sex. so yeah don't go forward if you don't want sex. Jeannette Sousa and Ona Grauer both play crossroads demons since the characters don't really have names beyond crossroad demons I just used the actress's names.

Hell, Kings Court

“So where do we start?” Dean asked downing his drink with little appreciation for the well-aged beverage watching Crowley.

The man made a face at Dean’s treatment of his prized scotch before focusing his attention back on Dean.

“Yes well, that is the question.” He mused seemingly lost in thought. “That night, why did you take the human’s deal?” Crowley asked curious his eyes narrowed he was searching for something in his expression but Dean couldn’t be sure what.

Dean shrugged holding the glass towards Crowley tapping it. Trusting Crowley in the past had always been a bit hazardous, Crowley was the master at manipulation Dean had to watch and wait his and Crowley’s interest in this weren’t mutually exclusive. The other demon scowled but complied taking another liquor from his stash and pouring it into his glass. Dean sniffed it carefully, it was still scotch only of a lesser quality.

“I recognized him.” Dean replied simply deciding that the truth was harmless. “I was in the area looking for Abaddon, I saw him at the crossroad, and I recognized him.”

“From the visions?” Crowley asked but it was less of a question and more reaffirming what he had already surmised. Dean nodded.

“You do realize he is dangerous?” Crowley asked

Dean frowned, it wasn’t like the human was capable of hurting him.

“The man is the thread.” Crowley emphasized “Pick at it too much and the whole thing unravels.”

Crowley’s words had the impact that he intended Dean frowned. When he took the human he originally only intended to keep him prisoner but after that kiss his mind had strayed to other possible occupations for the man. He wouldn’t be the first demon to do it, keep a sex slave. Only if he could get the priest to agree to it of course. He had two rules when it came to sex… ok three rules. Dean Winchester didn’t do cash for ass, he didn’t rape. He never had to force someone to fuck him as a human and being a demon hadn’t changed that, and he didn’t do nipple clamps. His nipples were perky enough as it was. Now Crowley was squashing those dreams. It was just as well, he liked keeping himself free of attachments and the Padre looked like the type he’d want to take his time with.

“Where are you keeping him?” Crowley asked cautiously “At my place.” Dean informed him there was gonna be no question that. Castiel was safe and sound at his place but there was no way he was letting Crowley take him. Whether Crowley understood the threat or not was left to be seen but he nodded.

“Good, keep him there and interact with him as little as possible until we figure this out, you two obviously have some connection in the other timeline, but with connections like this it isn’t always positive, he could be your friend, enemy, lover or your bloody brother we don’t know.”

Dean nodded solemnly Crowley’s words boiled down to one thing for him, he couldn’t trust the priest, for the moment he seemed like he was unaware of their connection, and it was entirely possible as a human he was unable to sense it, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Inside hell he is outside time, by taking him you’ve changed things further and it’s only a matter of time before we see the effects,”

“And what are you gonna do?” Dean asked suspiciously

“I...” Crowley asserted gesturing to himself with a generous smile.

“…will interrogate Samandrial on the matter.” Crowley continued Dean nodded

Dean turned to leave when Crowley called out to him

“And for hell’s sake keep it in your pants.”

***

Limbo

Castiel was surprised when Dean’s wolfish smile suddenly vanished.

“Anyway, this room already taken Padre, try the one down the hall.” He replied firmly his sudden change of mood unexpected and once the words were spoken he pivoted and left him simply staring into the space where he once stood. Castiel wasn’t sure how to continue. He needed to remember the person before him wasn’t human. He could not expect it to act like one. It was a monster playing at civility. He needed to remember that, he glanced around the room again the careful order did not mean that the demon actually cared for any of these objects. Castiel was projecting his feelings towards the demon. His yearning for a home, and family. The demon could simply like having his things readily available.

Castiel grabbed his bag where he had left it sitting in the door way and moved towards another room down the hall.

This room was identical to the last one except the personal touches. This room was available. Castiel gently set out his meager belongings. He wasn’t used to decadence and somehow the simplicity of the lodgings helped soothe a part of him. He was still the same penitent man that he was when he made this deal, if a little worn for the wear. For a brief moment he felt intense longing for home. His church, the gardens out back where the honey bees flitted between flowers, it made his heart ache. Yet he could easily push back the yearning he could picture the children imagine them with long fulfilling lives and be at peace.

***

Crossroads, Louisiana July 29th, 1950

Castiel was surrounded by dusty old volumes, motes of dust floated in the air around him. He sat on the floor there were no tables in the basement only several bookshelves filled to the brim. His knees were drawn up to his chest as he rested a particularly heavy tome against them. The volume depicted a ritual on demon summoning. It was all there, spelled out on the page. Ingredients, herbs to boost the potency, where to make deals. It was possible, but was he the type of man to sell his soul for an idea? The church it offered hope, and a home to many people in need.

He stood surprised to find that he joints ached and his stomach felt surprisingly empty. It seemed that he had spent most of the morning in his research. His neck ached slightly from its constant downward angle he rubbed at it absently with his hand trying to ease the tension. He wondered if Balthazar had finished his chores, more likely the man left as soon as his back was turned. Castiel felt himself smile. There was a genuine fondness there for man, sometimes it felt like he had known him for most of his life rather than just a few years.

            Castiel made his way out of the basement back into the upper levels of the church. There was much he needed to do today. Tomorrow was Sunday and there was much to prepare for, and yet he found himself at a loss for inspiration.

            He was running out of time as a priest, soon he would have to give up his position at this church and while he was sure he would find a new home something felt final. Like once he left this church it would be the end of things for him, he knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t fight the ominous feeling.

***

Limbo

Dean couldn’t stop long enough to gather his senses it would have been a sign of weakness so he kept moving even though every fiber of his being urged him to go back and fuck the angel. Dean was a base creature at heart, when he wanted food he ate, when he was thirsty he drank, when he wanted sex he got it, but he knew better than to stick his dick in a hornet’s nest. Castiel was a hornet’s nest. As fun as it would be to teach the Priest a thing or two about sin, it wouldn’t be worth it in the end.

Dean didn’t know anything else about the other timeline except that he was human and Castiel was an angel. That could mean any number of things. Maybe the man was a vessel or maybe something changed and he fell and became human, either way getting too involved with him was a bad idea or at least that was what he kept telling his hard on. At least until they had more information. That was why whenever his dick went down Dean was headed towards the dungeon. It wasn’t a dungeon in the fun sense of the word, but more a dank empty windowless cell. The Enochian runes painted along the door and the inner walls were designed to ward against angels. Not that they often visited hell, but Dean imagined that they might make an exception for his prisoner.   Dean was going to the source. In his visions Castiel was an angel, so they needed to talk to an angel. He didn’t want to rely solely on Crowley for information.

While Dean didn’t have access to an angel, like Crowley did he had the next best thing. An ex-vessel, it was his trump card, his leverage against Crowley. Crowley had the first blade and Dean… well Dean had Lucifer’s vessel. Vessel’s retained some on the memories of whoever possessed them, possession went both ways. The angel or demon had access to the human’s thoughts and if the human was strong enough they could touch the possessors mind.

Dean stared at the man in the cell. There was a swirling of something there that might have been an emotion if not for all the demonic blood flowing through him. The man was tall even prone on the bed Dean knew him to be much taller than himself. His time imprisoned had withered away some of his strength, he was thin, not quite the thinness of a sickly person who could never gain strength but more the constant burn of someone with the starved energy of a drug addict constantly on the prowl for their next fix. Dean opened the door. The hinges wailed in protest. The man sat up his feet hitting the ground and he turned towards him. Dean had to be careful how close he got, the man while weak was still capable of hurting him.

“Hiya Sam.” Dean called out. Sam only narrowed his eyes to scowl at him. He was hungry, and was doing everything in his power not to fling himself to the other side of the room and try to rip open his throat with this teeth. The chain around his left ankle would probably stop him, but the self-control was interesting. Dean wasn’t sure he would resist the urge if he was as hungry as Sam.

“How you doing?” Dean asked casually checking his condition with his eyes, examining for injuries or weapons.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked his tone bordered on disillusioned, Dean smiled he really did like the kid’s spunk.

“Not really.” He replied honestly a shiver of something went through Sam he bent his head avoiding Dean’s eyes. Sam was fighting himself, the man was always fighting himself.

“What did I do to get the pleasure of your company?” Sam asked through clenched teeth, his words were saturated with sarcasm.

“I’ve got some questions for you.” Dean stated watching him.

Sam clenched his fists into the sheets of his bed and looked away from Dean again before laughing bitterly the sound was so world-weary it almost didn’t qualify as laughter.

“About Lucifer?” he scoffed. “I’ve told you everything… he didn’t let me in much.” His voice was hesitant, quiet, broken, something about the tone bothered Dean.

“Except when he killed people, he liked making me watch.” He finished desolately

“Not about Lucifer,” Dean began “About something else.” the feeble hope in his eyes was surprising.

“Dean?” he asked quietly his tone was pleading.

Dean knew he wouldn’t really get anything from him until he gave him what he wanted.

Dean tossed Sam the silver flask, it hit the bed beside him. He pounced his hands shaking as he struggled to open the cap. He tipped the contents into his outstretched palm, the dark red liquid slowly oozed out of the container coating his hand he brought it too his mouth an ecstatic look on his face.

“Fresh from the tap.” Dean called out tapping his forearm.

After he tipped over the container several more times until it was empty and he had licked his palm clean he raised his blood smeared face towards Dean again.

He sat up straighter squaring his shoulders, he was no longer shaking and the pitiful querulous tone of his voice had vanished.

“Why do you do this to me?” He demanded resentment plain on his face.

“Keep me here, keep me addicted?”

“What feed you? Take care of you?” He asked with a grin.

“What are brothers for?” Dean scorned

Sam’s hand flew out towards him and psychic wind whipped around him.

“You don’t have enough juice for that Sam.” Dean said quietly, the anger in Sam’s eyes oddly bothered him.

The headache came from nowhere, the pressure was intense it started behind his eyes and spread until it felt like his skull was trying to push its way out of his skin.

He nearly collapsed because of the pain, he fell to one knee his arm clenching onto the door frame for support. Sam leapt to his feet, and moved towards him at first Dean thought Sam had more juice that he let on and this was the end Sam was killing him, the same way he killed Lilith. Then his eyes watered and he blinked away the tears to see another scene entirely.

It was a hotel room. The air smelled clean and perfumed, but also like sex. Scented candles and sweat. It was the honeymoon suite.

He watched as a dark haired brunette woman flee the room, the seething hatred he felt for her astounded him, he didn’t recognize her from behind, and yet he knew she was a demon.

His gaze moved back towards his brother only now it wasn’t apathy or begrudging respect he felt for him, but a deep familial love, he would die for him, or kill for him and he had done both.  

“She's poison, Sam.” He felt himself insisting trying desperately to get his brother to see the truth. “It's not what you think, Dean.” Sam maintained his expression tired exasperation

“Look what she did to you.” He asserted his arm out indicating everything before him, the pain in his voice surprised him. Dean was human again in this vision and the pain wasn’t physical it was an emotional torrent he was worried for Sam, and he was afraid he was losing him.

“I mean, she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit” as he spoke he moved his hands trying to make Sam see. “She was looking for Lilith.” Sam continued slight anger showing on his face he trusted her and was upset Dean didn’t. Now he was the one that was becoming exasperated. It was like talking to a brick wall Sam just wouldn’t listen to reason.

“That is French for manipulating your ass ten ways from Sunday.” Dean continued indignantly “You're wrong, Dean.” Sam continued his voice elevated.   


“Sam, you're _lying_ to yourself.” He insisted again stepping forward hoping his sincerity would be enough to sway his brother.

“I just want you to be okay. You would do the same for me. You know you would.”He continued resolutely. His heart ached not in a physical way but in a profoundly sad way. It hoped that he could save his brother make him see the truth and yet Sam continued trying to change his mind. “Just listen.” Sam began again one hand outstretched in supplication trying to calm him but the other still clutched Ruby’s knife, he looked down almost as if he hadn’t realized the knife was still there, before tossing it on the bed. “Just listen for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together.” It all sounded dull in his ears he could barely focus on the words. “That sounds great. As long as it's you and me. Demon bitch is a deal-breaker. You kiss her goodbye, we can go right now.” And he meant it. He would do anything for his brother fight any battle at his side. “I can't.” the dependency was obvious he just wished he could make Sam see it. He turned away, nodding to himself. That was it then, was Sammy beyond saving? He rubbed his face trying to fight the tears. He wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t not on Sammy.  


“Dean, I need her to help me kill Lilith. I know you can't wrap your head around it, but maybe one day you'll understand. I'm the only one who can do this, Dean.” He turned back around slowly.   


“No, you're not the one who's gonna do this.” His voice nearly quavered “Right, that's right, I forgot. The angels think it's you.” The disbelief and scorn rolled off his words. “You don't think I can?” he demanded surprised. “No. You can't. You're not strong enough.” Sam was right he wasn’t strong enough, but not for what Sam was talking about, he could ice that bitch Lilith in a heartbeat he wasn’t worried, about that. What he couldn’t do was kill his brother. His father said he might have to one day, but only if he couldn’t save him, and Dean knew he would always save him.

“And who the hell are you?” he demanded. “I'm being practical here. I'm doing what needs to be done.” “Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing.” He was surprised by his resolve, if he had his way Sammy wouldn’t have to do anything Dean could take the burden on himself. The demon blood it was changing his brother.

“Stop bossing me around Dean!” the quick flash of anger was easily mastered

“Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me.” “No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.” “Yes, I do.” He persisted inflexibly “Then that's worse!” He shouted the words slipping out before he could think them through. “Why? Look, I'm telling you…” “Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means…” Dean cut himself off as he saw the pain in his brother’s face.

“What?” at first Sam was confused he didn’t know what he meant and Dean hoped with all his being that the other shoe wouldn’t drop and he wouldn’t understand, but his hope was in vain.

“No. Say it.” Sam ordered tears shimmering in his eyes.  


“It means you're a monster.” He finished irresolutely still not believing his words his brother was not beyond saving, a tear slid down his face, but Sam didn’t see it since his own face was turned away.Then Sammy clocked him.

“Dean,” the voice was serious possibly worried, but he was having trouble focusing. “Dean!” it shouted again urgently. He opened his eyes. To see his brother’s bloody face peering down at him, he was shaking him.

When Dean opened his eyes he took several steps back. It was then Dean realized he had collapsed and fallen into Sam’s cell. Dean sat up gradually. Something wet trickled down over his jaw. He raised a hand it came back red with his blood. His nose was bleeding.  

It had felt so real. That conversation had never happened between him and Sam. After Lilith killed him, he hadn’t seen Sam again until after the apocalypse and at that point Lucifer was the one calling the shots.

“What happened?” Sam demanded concern tinged his tone. Dean stood slowly, backing away from his brother. He was lucky he had fed Sam before he fell, he had seen the man slice a demon and drain them getting this close before.

“None of your business.” Dean insisted resting his hand on the door frame as he tried to pitch forward his vision spinning, nausea overwhelmed him and he retched. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and he fought dry heaves.

“How long was I out?” he demanded still turned away from Sam. He could hear his brother stand by the rattle of the chain.

He couldn’t look at him. It made him angry, at himself. How could he do this to Sam?

“Ten minutes, or so.” Sam said quietly Dean nodded. When Crowley said there would be side effects of pulling Castiel out of time he had said that more visions of the other timeline might be one of them. What he hadn’t said was that they might hit him like a Mack Truck.

“Did I do anything weird while I was out Sammy?” he asked his whole body ached it felt like he had been ridden hard and put up wet and not in the fun way.

“What did you say?” Sam asked a strange quaver in his voice.

“Did I do anything while I was out?”

“No,” he said dismissively obviously more interested in something else. “Did you call me Sammy?”

Dean frowned his head hurt too much to put up with his brother’s puzzling behavior he didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“It’s your name isn’t it?” he mused. Sam chuckled darkly.

“Yeah, but _you_ haven’t called me that since before you went to hell.”

***

Dean made his way out of the dungeon he had slammed the door in Sam’s face and left. He couldn’t think about that vison about the alternative universe. The mark was making itself known. He could hear the high pitch drone that meant it was hungry. It wanted blood. It had been weeks since he had killed anyone and the mark burned. It had been hungry before but the vison and his turbulent emotions made it ravenous. He covered it with his palm pressing it into his arm trying to make the sharp ache disappear. He knew that he should ask Crowley. The man would have a target for him, the list of people Crowley wanted dead was a mile long and yet the idea didn’t sit well with him. The killing had never bothered him before, what was happening to him?

He needed to feed the mark, if he couldn’t do so with murder he needed another form of sin and darkness.

Dean needed to get laid he decided. No he needed to get drunk, spectacularly stupendously drunk and go screw his brains out in the nearest warm body. That would let him forget these freaky visons and the alternative universes and the entire shit storm that was reeking holy havoc on his emotions. Unfortunately his little black book was fill of mostly burned bridges. He was wracking his brain trying to think of a casual fuck, the human angel was the closest warm body that wasn’t a blood relation but that went back to putting his dick in a honest nest which turned out to be a bad idea. That meant that he needed to find someone who would fuck him with as little baggage as possible. That meant someone demonic, while he could always try to go to earth for a hook up. Bars and barflies didn’t really exist in this post-apocalyptic world so that limited his options.

Mentally he tried to run through his list of available demons who wouldn’t gut him on sight that would also fuck him.

It was a short list. He hadn’t exactly won friends and influenced people as a knight of hell. People were jealous and the rest of them scared.

Lately he had been hooking up with a crossroads demon named Jeannette, but that had ended messy. When she found him in bed with Ona another crossroads demon. It probably would have ended a bit better if he hadn’t suggested it become a three-way. Demons these days since when did hell get so prudish?

He pulled out his phone scrolling through his contacts. His hands were shaking the mark was eating him alive. His stomach swirled threatening to empty its contents again.

He paused on a name. Brady. Tyson Brady. Once upon a time a Lucifer loyalist, he quickly defected to Crowley’s side when Lucifer left for Heaven. He was quick witted enough to realize that Luci wasn’t come back and if he did it would be to wipe them out.  

Dean tried to picture them fucking in his head. They had fucked in the past when they had the occasion to work with each other. Fast furtive angry sex for the most part. He liked the man well enough he was confidant, thorough and knowledgeable something he liked in a bed partner. He was also a bit of a brat, a manipulating brown nosing little fuck. Ok maybe he didn’t really like the guy, but he liked him enough.

The only question was would Brady be down for it? Last time Brady had ended it with a ‘don’t you ever fucking call me again.’ Dean couldn’t really remember why. Yet he felt like maybe he could talk him into it.

There really was only one way to test his theory.

Dean pressed the call button after a few rings he answered.

“Brady speaking.” Curt and to the point.

“Hi this is Dean.” He didn’t bother to add his last name there wasn’t very many demons Brady would mistake him for. He didn’t respond for several beats.

“How’s your brother?” he asked casually.

Dean felt a weird churning in his gut again he had forgotten that Brady knew Sam

When he didn’t respond Brady continued

“Well, down to business, then. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, it's about what I can do for you.”

“Really?” the interest Dean had hopped for was there.

“Yeah I wasn’t thinking that maybe you and I could let off a little steam together.”

The silence on the other end made Dean figured he’d guessed wrong about Brady until he finally answered.

“Your place or mine?”

***

A crash woke Castiel from a restless sleep. Part of him thought better than venturing out to investigate. He was a stranger in a strange land, who knew what dangers might lie beyond the doorway. Another crash forced his hand. Slowly he stood and made his way out into the hallway. He had not meant to fall asleep he had simply lain down and he fallen asleep exhausted. The past few days had been a strain on him. He had barely slept and he doubted he would get much sleep in hell.

He was still not familiar with the layout of his new residence, but he recalled that the crashing he heard had come from the direction of the library. He slowly crept in that direction. He wasn’t sure what prompted his caution it was late if the clock on the nightstand was accurate it was after midnight. The lights that illuminated the hallway were just dim rectangles set high on both sides of the wall, rather than the bright overhead light from before.

“Leave it!” he heard Dean order and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound.

His voice was twisted darker headier than normal. He heard another male voice make a sound that only could be described as a strangled moan. The sound shot straight down to his cock.

Castiel realized before he rounded the corner what he would see if he decided to throw caution to the wind. Sex. Part of him knew he should turn back. That he was a man of god sworn to resist the temptations of the flesh and that sex between men was an even greater sin, and yet.

He couldn’t see it, but he could hear, the heavy breathing and gratified groans and wonder what he might see.

***

He didn’t always top, he wasn’t always demanding, and he didn’t always use his physical strength against someone to the edge of pain but when the mark called to him he bordered on dangerous.

Dean had to admit he wasn’t sure how quickly Brady arrived. When the mark crept up on him like this he lost control of rational thought. It was an excuse but not a completely unfounded one. He did know that he had drunk a quarter of a fresh bottle of scotch, by the time he arrived so that helped place in perspective his speedy arrival.

Dean was usually a careful lover, he liked to stoke and tease his partner to pleasure and revel in their ecstatic moans. He wasn’t above sucking cock for half an hour just tease his partner till their balls tightened on the edge of cumming enjoying the way the shaft felt against his lips as he encircled the head in lazy sweeps of his tongue.

Except tonight he didn’t have the time. Dean sat on a table in the library. One leg idly propped up on the chair the other on the floor a bottle of scotch on the table a glass in his hand. He had shed the burgundy over shirt he wore black t-shirt and jeans. He also had a bottle of lube tucked in his pocket. Knowing that the likelihood of him making it to the bedroom was low. The mark had him achingly hard against the fly of his jeans. Every minute rub of the rough denim stoked the flames of his need. If Brady didn’t get here soon sticking his dick in a hornets nest was starting to look like a better option than dying because the mark.

Brady appeared in the library, Dean had set it as a landing zone of sorts anyone trying to teleport into his domain would wind up here, weather they wanted to or not.

“Hi.” Dean called out waiting. He wanted to pounce Brady to use him as a willing fuck slave until he was spent and the mark was sated, but part of that included willing and he needed to know before the rest of his mind was gone that he wasn’t going to rape the man.

Brady was hard. Dean could see the outline of his throbbing cock it spoiled the line of his tailored black slacks. He knew that what happened between them wasn’t loving sex. It was hard and fast and rough. Normally it was what Brady liked about him. However he looked warily towards him.

“I have to be crazy to do this again after last time.” He murmured to himself, and yet as he said the words he yanked at his tie and removed it before also shucking his suit jacket. The white shirt made his golden hair seem fairer than the black suit jacket. Dean had turned off the overhead lighting leaving just the wall sconces and the lamps on the table for light. It was dim but not dark.

“Can’t so no to great sex.” Dean said with a smile.

“It’s not the sex that worries me.” He insisted glancing at the mark. Dean wished that he could remember what happened last time they had sex but it was right after he received the mark and honestly the early days where kind of a blur. The mark had been constantly hungry then and it took maybe two months or more before he was able to really gain any semblance of control over the mark.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Dean asked not sure how else to phrase his request. Brady over all people knew what the mark did to him.

Rather than answer Brady begun to slowly unbutton his white dress shirt, presenting a light dusting of blonde curls. Brady was lean not as chiseled a he himself was, but Dean knew the feeling of his taunt muscles.

“Limits?” Dean asked. Trying to decide if he should continue but knowing the fucking mark would kill him if he didn’t. He downed his glass and poured another as Brady carefully removed his slacks as well and laid them neatly folded on the table across from Dean.

“No breaking skin, no limiting my movements, no choking.” He listed the items with deliberation.

They had discussed other hard and soft limits on other occasions Dean knew what Brady would never allow he simply wanted to know what was acceptable for tonight.

Dean nodded. “No foreplay.” He added

Brady laughed “I took care of some of that before I arrived.” He insisted.

He was in his boxers. Dean realized that he was a bit behind he pulled his shirt over his head. Brady feasted his eyes hungrily across the expanse of his chest.

“Anything else?” Dean asked. He knew his voice had grown tighter the need the make filled him with was intense.

“Try not to kill me.” Brady muttered quietly. So quietly Dean almost wondered if he said it.

Brady stepped forward Dean kissed him grabbing the base of his skull pulling on the small hairs at the nape of his neck Brady hissed into his mouth and gently rocked against him. Brady had masochistic tendencies. Dean quickly grew impaitent with kissing the mark urging him to burry himself into a willing body.

Brady reached for his cock and Dean growled pulling him away. The mark demanded control, if Brady touched him Dean knew he would lose what little grip over the mark he maintained.

“No touching.” He barked out not caring if Brady understood the command.

“More for me.” Was all he replied.

Dean reached his hand inside the waistband of Brady’s black boxers and skimmed along the length of the other man’s cock starting at the base open palm just teasing but when Dean reached the head and felt moisture on his slick slit he knew he couldn’t really hold back any longer.

He wrapped a firm hand around him and began to furiously pump his hand along the length of the other man’s shaft. Brady moaned against him, his head thrown back in pleasure the long column of his neck exposed. Dean gently bit at the exposed flesh the first bite just a slight scrape against the skin, the second he timed with a downward stoke of Brady’s cock biting into the flesh not hard enough to break skin but hard enough that Brady gasped in pain and pleasure all at once.

Dean’s hand framed one of Brady’s ass cheeks gently molding it with his hand using the pressure to press him forward into his hand. His fingertips skimmed the crevice and felt heated metal.

It was then Dean realized what Brady had meant when he said he had taken care of some of the foreplay.

Dean spun Brady forcing him to bend over the library table. Knocking the bottle of scotch and the nearest of the two lamps on this table to the ground.

He roughly yanked the boxers downward tired of their hindrance and anxious to see the display that Brady would give him.

The base of the butt plug was a silver circle nestled between the taunt cheeks of Brady’s ass.

The sight aroused him further. As he pictured Brady reaching around fingering his own ass as he stroked his cock preparing himself to be fucked hard and fast by Dean, before sliding the anal plug in and out of his hole moaning.

Brady turned slightly back towards him to remove the plug.

“Leave it!” Dean barked out and Brady’s hand disappeared.

Dean playfully smacked the silver disk causing a strangled moan of surprise as the light impact rocked the toy inside him.

The wide circular base kept the toy from sliding inside and was perfect for a handle he grasped the base of the toy pulling gently Brady groaned low in his throat. The toy was half way out the widest point stretching his tight hole to the point of almost pain before Dean slid to toy inside again

He repeated the action three times until Brady begged him to stop.

“Please. Please. Please” He chanted incoherently

A slight muted gasp was the last vestiges of his control. Without looking Dean knew they were being watched.

The priest. He could feel him watching on the edges of the library.

Dean had never required an audience but he never shied away from putting on a show. He scanned the library before him and smiled as he spotted a conveniently placed mirror. It was at an angle from where they stood but it was perfectly place so that he could see the priest carefully watching around the corner. He had a hungry expression on his face as he watched one hand resting on his mouth perhaps to keep himself from calling out.

Dean turned his attention back to Brady and removed the plug. Tossing it aside on the table willing to clean up any mess he made later.

He didn’t want to waste the time removing anymore clothing so he unzipped and slid his aching cock along the puckered slickness of Brady’s ass.

He fumbled in his pocket for the lube. While unlike humans they weren’t susceptible to diseases the body still required some things.

He poured the clear liquid into his palm, rubbing it gently in quick circles across his hole. Before also running a quick pass across his cock.

***

Castiel knew he shouldn’t be watching this. It wasn’t meant for his eyes it was a private moment even if it was in the center of the library. It was a sin that he was rock hard in his slacks that his cock throbbed and his blood roared in his ears.

He had seen men naked before. As a child swimming in the river, and as an adult in the shared showers at the community center, but this was something else entirely.

This was arousing to no end. This was what he had craved his entire life that secret dull yearning had bloomed it to a raging torrent of lust.

Castiel didn’t recognize the other man but he knew Dean. Suddenly a fierce and unquenchable need to be that anonymous man bent across the table overcame him. The other man moaned in ecstatic bliss as Dean rubbed his cock against his now slickened hole before pushing inside.

Castiel had no earthly idea what that would feel like. He knew that sodomy was what happened between two men, but he had always assumed it would be painful and yet judging by the way the other man pushed back into the thrusts and groaned deep in his chest pain was not what he was feeling.

Without meaning to Castiel pressed his palm against the front of his slacks hoping to relieve the tension.

***

The heat wrapped around him soothed the mark but also enraged it at the same time. Sliding in and out of Brady each thrust rocked the table. He could see the priest in the mirror. The desire on his face was almost sweet compared to the wanton scene before him. It also didn’t distract from the fact that the priest’s cock was clearly hard beneath his black slacks.

The harder he fucked into Brady the harder the priest pressed against his own cock. The reaction was completely artless almost as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Suddenly this wasn’t about Brady. It was about putting on a good show. Dean pulled Brady to his feet rotating them so that they would be facing the entrance way rather than away from it.

Dean pulled out long pull two chairs over enough to sit on the table. He placed a foot on each chair as support before pulling Brady up into his lap. Demonic strength really lended itself to athletic sex.

He was able to fully support the other man’s weight a hand on each thigh as he lifted him shoving him up and down against his cock. Brady shouted his cries growing louder and louder the harder he thrust him down on him after a few vigorous thrust Dean allowed Brady to ride him rather than Dean forcing him down on his cock. Leaving him free to stroke Brady. He could see the human watching them but he pretended as if he couldn’t see him. He wanted the human to watch him fuck Brady to completion. Some part of him enjoyed the idea of showing the human this scene. Of turning him on without even touching him.

***

Castiel was stoking his cock in earnest now. He couldn’t fight the need any longer. At first he told himself just a little touch then he would return to his room and pleasure himself with the memories of this view, but the demon’s turned towards him everything on full display. He could see as the head and the rest of Dean’s cock disappeared as it slammed in and out of the other man as he bounced on his lap.

He watched the look of pleasure on Dean’s face as he shuddered thrusting in and out the man.

His hand pumping the strangers cock his movements growing sloppy as he tried to thrust harder. He was going to finish. The thought sent a strange thrill through Castiel.

It also made it impossible for him not to touch himself. He twisted his and around his shaft before pumping up and down his eyes never leaving the scene before him. He was so close but he wanted to wait. He had to wait.

The other demon bellowed as he came strings of white hot semen splashing across his legs and chest.

Castiel almost lost it then never having seen another man reach his release before but he couldn’t give into his pleasure yet. Dean’s thrusts grew frantic frenzied as he pounded himself into the other man he shouted the look of pure pleasure on his face sent Castiel screaming over the edge. Covering his hand in his own fluids as Dean reached release inside the other man.

He was breathing heavily leaning against the wall only partially hidden now. Dean still sat on the table the other man leaning against his chest breathing hard. Dean looked over the other man’s shoulder directly at him.

“Next time Padre why don’t you join us? I’m a good show but I’m an even better lay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully that wasn't a bad chapter it might get a bit gratuitous at times because of feeding the mark, but basically I want to write porn with a plot. just enough plot to keep you interested between the sex scenes but not enough sex to keep you from enjoying the plot. but it will still be slow burn before Cas and Dean actually have sex. let me know if this idea works or if its too much. I could really use some feedback.


	5. Nothing else matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the present is about 2017

Castiel was breathing heavy trying to catch his breath, his heart beat rapidly in his chest to the point where it ached with every ragged breath. The only sound in the room was their uneven panting. The moment seemed to span forever as he maintained eye contact with Dean. Even across the room his eyes seemed too green to be real. Then slowly a wicked self-gratified smile graced his lips causing his stomach to drop. Castiel ran. He turned away from the demons his own fluids still coating his hand and sped down the corridor back towards the room he wasn’t exactly proud of it, but then again he wasn’t proud of his last few minutes either. What had he done?

Dean’s rich laughter followed him all the way down the hall. The demon thought it was funny that he had utterly and completely humiliated himself. He was amused by his disgrace and sin. The shame he felt heating his cheeks was nothing compared to the heat from the lust he had just experienced. What had he done? He thought again horrified.

He slammed the door shut locking it, only afterwards realizing that there was nothing that he could use to clean off with, aggravated he wiped the semen off on his pant leg knowing that they were already soiled with even more damming evidence.

He collapsed down on his bed and laid his forearm over his eyes. This was it then? This was how the demons were going to corrupt him? He knew when he sold his soul he would be tempted, but he was a man of faith. He had thought himself above most temptation. He had never been tempted by money or power, he had lived a simple and moral life. His only goal had been to help people it was what gave him peace. His whole life he had forsook the sins of the flesh, knowing it was wrong but also he had been cloistered away in the church without much in the way of temptation. He had been so prideful. So self-righteous and in all likelihood, he was a fool. It was almost amusing how quickly his principles fell to the wayside in the wake of true temptation. He was weak. It would work. He realized a blush crept over his face again as the images forever burned into his mind continued to play out before his eyes.

The look of ecstasy on the men’s faces, the movements of their bodies. He had never seen something that aroused him to such degrees before. Had never fantasized about something so thrilling. The scene was beyond his understanding, and yet everything thing he had seen had felt right. Each moment hit the perfect note to raise his desire to a fever pitch. There was shame yes, he was terribly ashamed, but worse yet he was curious.

How would it feel to have someone touch him like that? How would it feel to have Dean touch him like that? Castiel pushed away at the troublesome thoughts. For years he had denied himself. Kept his fantasies vague simply shapes a mouth here a hand there never really explicitly male. He knew that masturbation was also a sin, but at times when the dreams became too vivid it was all that he could do. He had broken his vow of celibacy years ago the first time he ever took himself in hand and yet it had never like such a betrayal before. In the past it was mechanical necessary tonight had been about pure carnal desire. He would never have indulged his curiosity this far if it were not for Dean. He would have continued to live his life righteously not without sin true butvirtuously. Now not only had he stroked himself to completion watching two men in the throes of passion, he knew he would never be able to touch himself again without those images infiltrating his brain. Dean had tempted him. Already he had lost that tiny bit of naivety before he never knew what he was missing, now he did… and it was so much worse.  

***

Dean laughed loudly as the priest scurried quickly from the room, the mark was quieting. It was still there throbbing just below the surface. It was never really sated but for now it was resting.

He felt good the strain in his muscles was the reminder he had just had fun athletic sex, the pleasure that continued to loosen his limbs was what he had craved. God he loved orgasms.

“So this was about your pet watching?” Brady asked ambivalently as he stood looking for something to clean off with. Dean pointed to the wipes he had brought for that purpose.

“This was about feeding the mark that was a happy accident.” Dean replied smiling to himself. Something about the little priest intrigued him. It must be part of the connection they shared between worlds. He knew what Crowley had said about avoiding him, but technically they had not interacted not really.

Brady nodded quietly to himself, but it seemed like he didn’t really believe Dean. It really didn’t matter.

Dean watched as Brady moved and dressed with purpose.

“Leaving?” Dean asked.

Brady shot a glace over his shoulder. “Are you asking me to stay?”

Dean shrugged honestly he didn’t give a fuck what Brady did if he stayed they would probably fuck again if he left he might call him again when the mark was hungry, but other than that he couldn’t care less.

“That’s what I thought.” He continued reaching whatever conclusion he did from Dean’s expression.

Dean frowned as Brady tossed him the box of wipes. He wasn’t sure why Brady was being such a dick about this. It was a casual hook up he didn’t need to act like Dean was the ass. They both knew what this was going in it wasn’t like he pretended to care about Brady. Brady pulled on his pants.

“What’s eating you?” Dean asked as he zipped up his own pants and began searching for his shirt.

Brady said nothing at first he shoulders tense before looking back at him a puzzling expression on his face as he slipped his arms back into his dress shirt.

“You really don’t remember do you?”

“Remember what?” Dean asked.

“What happened between us the last time I was with you.”

Dean shrugged as if to succinctly say no and did it matter at the same time.

Rather than answer Brady just shook his head ruefully to himself.

“I’m insane.” He murmured quietly. “I’ve got to go.” He insisted firmly.

“Next time call me before it gets that bad.” He added pragmatically

Dean nodded and watched as Brady was there one second and gone the next.

It was only after Brady had left that he realized he should have asked him to stay. He still needed to talk to Sam about all this angel business and it would be nice to have a backup in case he lost it again.

He sighed heavily. What was wrong with him lately? The entire situation with Sam was fucked up. He was a demon, his brother shouldn’t mean shit to him and yet he kept having thoughts like that. His brother. His family, his blood. Family cared about you. Not what you can do for them. He felt guilty. He thought about the vision. The emotions he had felt the brotherly bond had shaken him to the core. He tried to remember feeling that way towards Sam in this reality, but his mortal life only came to him in bits and pieces.

When he lost his humanity in hell he lost most of what he used to be. That was the point to slowly burn out every last vestiges of his humanity. Over time corrupt his soul into a demon. He could still picture people from his past, his brother, and other faces without names. A small woman with dirty blonde hair a shot gun aimed at his chest. Another older woman with brown hair a hardened look in her eyes cautious and resilient. The same man he’d seen in his first vison with the beat up trucker hat. He could picture them individually. See them together talking, but it was empty without context. Like watching a movie with the sound muted. He could see all the action but he understood none of it. That was the difference between time in hell and time on Earth he had been in hell for over nine hundred years. Several human lifetimes and yet at the same time on Earth it wasn’t even a decade since he died. The people he knew in his human life were still alive… well some of them anyway.

The apocalypse took its toll on the Earth there was no real way of knowing who still survived down there. At first Lucifer made it his personal duty to see all of human kind eradicated then when as he begun to see results he seemed to lose interest. It seemed that winning didn’t agree with him. Then he left, it was kind of funny for those demons who worshiped him as a god, he took a page from his father’s book. No one really knew how his attack on heaven went but with all the souls of hell behind him and his own power… add that to the fact that no one had seen an angel in a few years besides ones captured during the apocalypse. The assumption was that it went pretty well.

Trying to remember gave him a headache. He scowled. He knew he needed to go talk to Sam but he couldn’t force himself to return empty handed.

Dean went to the kitchen. He rarely used it for any purpose besides the occasional snack and beer.

He pulled a nearly empty bottle of whiskey off the refrigerator twisted off the cap and took a quick drink before he opened the freezer door.

He rooted through the freezer until he found what he was looking for ground beef.

He usually fed Sammy PB&J and blood, but for some reason he didn’t really want to think too much about right now it didn’t feel right. He had used Sam, for years now. As leverage against Crowley, as a resource against Lucifer. At the time he hadn’t felt anything. It was just good business keeping Lucifer’s one true vessel safe and out of his clutches on the off chance that he came back and decided to finish them off. Now it felt different.

He defrosted the meat knowing that it wouldn’t be perfect this way but it was better than it had been. He pulled out the griddle and started cooking the patties. He made the priest one too thinking that the human might get hungry soon. If he ever decided to leave his room again. The look of shock and pleasure on his face was still heavy in Dean’s thoughts.

He would give him some space Dean decided. He wasn’t cruel. Ok maybe he was a bit cruel. The priest was confused. He would give him that, then again if someone told you your whole life something that was integrally part of you was wrong it was natural to be confused. Dean had never really had much problems with his sexuality. Or at least from what he could remember. Demons didn’t really shame each other it was all good fun. In his human life he couldn’t really remember but flashes of naked men and women were both there when he tried to picture his past.

The smell of sizzling meat filled the kitchen. Dean enjoyed cooking he rarely did so because as a demon he didn’t really need to eat, but it was oddly nice. He had spiced the meat before forming the patties and the scent was heavenly. He didn’t really have the ingredients to make the burger exactly as he wanted but he settled for meat and cheese.

***

           Sam Winchester sat in his cell. He knew every inch of the small room. It was less a cell and more a small storage closet that had been altered for this purpose. The Enochian warding sigils covered the cell from floor to ceiling he was more than willing to leave them in place. He did not want Lucifer making an encore appearance. He sat on the bed his knees drawn up as he leaned in the crook in the corner of the wall. He was thinking it seemed that was all he could do trapped as he was but in this instant he wasn’t thinking about blood or the devil but about his brother. He had thought that Dean was beyond saving. He’d thought that he lost his brother years ago and this shell the demon walked around in was all that was left of him a painful reminder of his loss. Yet maybe it wasn’t as much of a shell as he originally thought.

He was staring at the burger like it was a foreign entity.

“You cooked?” he asked surprised. Watching his brother cautiously. It still looked like Dean same body. He didn’t know how it was possible. The hellhounds ripped him to shreds, he buried what was left in the hope that he could resurrect him and yet as the years went by he knew it was futile. Even during the apocalypse some part of him had hoped that he would be able to save him, Lucifer had offered him his family back and here Dean was alive standing here in front of him, somehow the same and very different.

Sam could sense the demonic blood flowing through him he could hear it. Dean was a demon, but maybe he wasn’t lost.

“I have a real kitchen now.” He replied sheepishly continuing the conversation. He knew it was awkward between them. He didn’t know why he was here anymore than Sam did.

“I-I just didn't think you knew what a kitchen was.” Sam replied quietly his voice felt thick he didn’t get much excuse for talking these days. This conversation felt oddly like many others he had throughout the years with Dean. Taking a bite out of the sandwich if Dean wanted to kill him he would have done so years ago. He lost himself in thought.

He remembered the day Lucifer left him three years ago. He’d been so lost and confused. He wasn’t lying when he said Lucifer didn’t let him in much he hadn’t even known he was leaving. He’d been abandoned, he didn’t even really know where he was at. Some overgrown urban setting. Rubble had surrounded him. When Lucifer left him he had taken out half a city block. He was bleeding and badly injured, at the time he didn’t think he would survive and he was glad. He hadn’t wanted to survive not with the memories of what he and Lucifer had done. Then suddenly he looked up to see Dean standing over him and he had felt a moment of hope before his eyes flickered to black.

Sam shuddered he had eaten half the sandwich but his appetite was not large at this point he survived mostly on demon blood and solid food upset his stomach. His years with Lucifer that was all the sustenance he needed and after four years and another three year as a prisoner his system had adjusted. He wore a long sleeved forest green shirt and sweatpants still he wrapped his arms around himself trying to keep what little warmth he had. He even wore socks. Most people thought the devil ran hot but sadly that wasn’t the case. Lucifer ran cold and even though it had been years since he left him, he could never quite fight away the chill. That and it hid the marks. The razor blade was tucked underneath his mattress. He wasn’t sure if Dean would care, but he didn’t want to risk it. Sam wasn’t planning on killing himself. That dream died a long time ago he was capable of sacrificing himself for the greater good, but not of suicide. He wasn’t planning on escaping either. He deserved his imprisonment and at least this way he could still see his brother even if it wasn’t him. Now he was glad he stayed.

“I assume you want to finish your questions.” Sam continued there was no need to make this harder for either one of them. While whatever happened to Dean had changed him some the transformation wasn’t complete.

“Do you know anything about an angel named Castiel?”

“You mean did Lucifer know anything?” Sam asked his stomach rolling. It was petty of him but they weren’t exactly in a space that was normal.

Dean nodded.

Sam closed his eyes trying to connect to his memories of his time with Lucifer. They felt distant like a memory from very early childhood, or from a night spent black out drunk.

“No, Lucifer never knew about an angel named Castiel.” he replied firmly. He could see the list of angels clearly in his mind and there was no Castiel on it.

Dean nodded. “What did he know about time travel?”

“The same as you, that before the apocalypse nobody could change anything.”

Dean nodded for him to go on. “And now?” Dean asked Sam shrugged “Now who knows. Look Lucifer never played with time travel while he possessed me if he did something afterwards I wouldn’t know.”

Sam was starting to feel the craving creeping up on him again. His head ached and having Dean around didn’t help. Thinking about Lucifer didn’t help either.

Together they ended the world. Sam remembered Armageddon the fight between Lucifer and Michael. They had scorched the earth. The guilt he felt ate away at his soul. He deserved his fate.

“Please leave.” Sam asked pressing the heal of his palm to his temple fighting off the migraine

There was pity in Dean’s eyes as he nodded. It made his heart ache but it gave him hope. Dean was almost out the door when the question slipped out unbidden. “What happened to you in hell?” he had wanted to know for years. Ruby had told them that all demons were once human, but she never said how. “How did you?”

“Become a demon?” he supplied.

The bitterness he saw on his brother’s face was like a vice on his heart crushing it.

Dean flashed him a smile, as his mask settled back into place. “Clowns Sammy, millions of clowns.”

***

Dean left the room apparently Sammy’s melancholy mood was catching. He knelt down to snatch up the bottle he had left on the floor outside Sam’s room. He was feeling and it was kind of shitty to be honest. The guilt was there again mountains and mountains of guilt. He felt bad about keeping Sammy prisoner. About taking the human away from his home about everything really. The look on Cas’s face ate away at him. There was a yearning there when he didn’t realize he’d been seen. That had disappeared once he was exposed the only thing visible then had been a frantic shame. It was almost painful to watch. The man was so far in the closet he might as well be in Narnia… What he read?… it wasn’t exactly fair to unleash it all on him at once. Even if he did want to fuck him till he was sore.

He wasn’t sure if it was the visions or he was starting to sober up that turned him in to a sentimental fool but the latter was easily remedied. He headed back towards the library he was pretty sure he had another bottle stashed there. He kept thinking about the past, before he’d been a demon. Sam had reminded him that there had been a time before, it wasn’t that he had forgotten it. At least not entirely he remembered how he’d become a demon it just hadn’t mattered as much till now, because he was enjoying the hell out of being a demon. Except these visions all seemed to take place during the apocalypse after he died and was in the process of becoming a demon, and yet in them he was still human.

***

           The search for food brought Castiel out of his room. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in his room brooding in shame but it was long enough for him to realize that he hadn’t eaten since before he went to hell. He had changed he put on a fresh pair of black slacks and a black clerical shirt with his collar and combed his hair neatly as he always did before a service he hoped that his attire would give him strength and remind him of his resolve.

           He followed the layout back towards the library it was the most central location in Dean’s hell. It was hard to tell the difference between days here but it had to have been at least twelve hours. He traced the same path backwards through the building. He reached the library it was in much of the same condition as he left. A broken bottle on the floor chairs still positioned at the end of the table. He quivered trying not to recreate the scene in his head. He saw a plated burger sitting on the table thankfully not the same table that he had so recently watched Dean and the other man have sex on. Neither of them were within sight and Castiel counted himself lucky on that fact. He ate the burger quickly, it was delicious it wasn’t warm any more but he didn’t care his appetite was voracious.

He had already finished when he noticed the flash of silver on the ground. The plug that had been inside the other man. It was discarded on the flood beneath one of the tables. He stared at it both curious and horrified.

“I wouldn’t touch that.” Dean called out casually amusement saturating his words. It felt like the day would never end he wore the black T-shirt he held a bottle of some brown liquor in his hand he took a deep swig. “Besides it’s a bit too big for you anyway.” Castiel whipped back towards Dean and felt the blush heat his cheeks again as he thought about what Dean implied that he wanted the plug for himself.

Dean grinned and moved to take another pull on the liquor before he seemed to think better of it and offered the bottle towards him.

Castiel frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked angrily. Dean shot him a quizzical look before looking briefly down at the bottle.

“Talking about anal plugs and offering you a drink.” He replied as if it was obvious.

“No I mean what do you what with me? Why are you trying to corrupt me?”

He scoffed but his voice was oddly weary. “I’m not trying to corrupt you.”

Castiel shot him a dubious look he knew that demons lied but he doubted that they ever told the truth.

“You had …” he almost said the word sodomy but somehow found himself incapable of it. “Relations in the middle of the library knowing I was watching.”

“So I am not allowed fuck where I want in my own house without it being some devious scheme to corrupt you?’ he asked incredulously with a brow raised purposefully crude. When Castiel didn’t reply he continued scowling angrily.

“Look you’re the peeping tom, I just gave you a good show.” He asserted

“What are you saying?” Castiel demanded trying to make sense of everything. The demon took him for a purpose he had said as much before. Or well he had intimated that there a reason he asked for mystery and that was all that Dean was to him.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to do anything but get my rocks off.” He continued emphasizing the words indignantly “You’re the one that stuck around to watch. Which was _hot_ ” he added a sultry layer to his words before he continued in the same annoyed tone from before. “But not my fault.”

The thought struck him as a surprise. Could he believe that the demon didn’t have a malicious will? He remembered something the previous priest of their church often spoke about time and time again. Demons could not make someone sin. They merely exercised persuasion.

“You’re right.” Castiel gasped astonished his world view feeling fractured.

“You’re damn right I am.” Dean agreed he paused polishing off the bottle setting it heavily on the closest table with a solid thunk.

“About what again?” he inquired.

Castiel sank down to the floor his back resting against one of the half sized bookshelves. He couldn’t really blame the demon for him falling to sin. Yes the temptation came from him. The moment he first kissed him Castiel’s focus had shifted. He had been introduced in a world that he had never seen. This failing wasn’t one he could place on the demon it was on him. He wasn’t strong enough. He lacked conviction.

Dean went to the bookshelf shifting some books aside he pulled another bottle from the shelf. Castiel gave him a strange look. Dean shrugged and settled down next to him. His back was also leaning against the shelf. Their knees touched. It was strangely intimate.

“Ok, you caught me in a sappy mood what’s your problem?” they weren’t facing each other he could see him in his peripheral vison.

“Other than the fact that I sold my soul to a demon and I am now committing sins in hell?”

He scoffed if Castiel was being uncharitable it might have been a snort. “You were unhappy long before I came around and if jerking off was a sin hell would have taken over a long time ago.”

Castiel didn’t reply. Thinking on what he said. Was it true? If he was being brutally honest it was. His life was peaceful, uncomplicated, rewarding, but not happy. For long moments they just sat there the only sound was their breathing and the sound of the sloshing of the contents of the liquor bottle as Dean tipped the container back again. Demons must have a surprising tolerance for alcohol.

After the extended period of silence and several drinks later Dean finally spoke.

“I took you because I had to.” He murmured. “It wasn’t personal, and it wasn’t to hurt or change you.”

Castiel looked at him trying to judge the validity of his words. Dean continued to stare forward. He felt oddly disappointed he wasn’t special after all. While he should be content with that it was something he knew no man was greater than another it still made him feel oddly hollow. He couldn’t be sure.

“Why were you required to… take me?” Dean handed him the bottle he took it but didn’t take a drink just held it, his face still turned towards the demon. Dean sighed a protracted heavy sigh.

“It’s com-pli-cated.” He continued drawing out the word awkwardly.

Castiel nodded tipping the bottle to his lips. He should have known better than to try to get a straight answer from a demon. He never drank more than wine at communion, the liquid burned all the way down his throat and filled his stomach with warmth.

Once he lowered the bottle he recognized that Dean was watching him, a smoldering heat lay beneath the surface of his expression. He was examining his face closely his eyes searching for something.

It seemed as if he came to a conclusion. “Being gay isn’t a sin either.” He said quietly.

Castiel looked over at him then he hadn’t really realized how close they really were and for once his heart didn’t race in fear at the notion. Dean already knew that he was attracted to men there was no denying it at this point, while he couldn’t believe that it was not a sin he wasn’t afraid of someone knowing. Dean turned away again.

“Not that you would take my word on it.” Dean added cynically

Castiel chuckled darkly taking another drink feeling sorry for himself.

“A demon is trying to educate me on the ways of sin?”

“I would know right?” Dean sustained taking the bottle back. It was also eerily familiar sharing drinks and sitting together almost as if they had done it before.

“I _am_ a demon.”

Dean was shocked when a startled laugh escaped the priest. He hazarded a quick glance back at him.

The turmoil on his face touched him. The man was struggling with a part of himself that Dean had taken for granted. He could not remember being ashamed, he was a demon. He was free to pursue life however he wanted. Even as a human Dean remember having trouble with faith, but never doubt about who he was.

“Demons lie.” He finally answered resolutely

Dean nodded it was true demons lied, but so did people and he hadn’t really lied to Castiel. He didn’t tell him everything but he didn’t lie.

“Okay, all right. You know what? I get it.” Castiel looked back at him his blue eyes seemed impossibly wide.

“You've got faith. That's - hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier but I can tell you from personal experience there's no higher power, there's no God.” The human bristled at his words.

“Hear me out.” Dean insisted gruffly as Castiel moved to leave Dean caught his wrist pulling him back down to sit with him. He wasn’t brutal or rough Castiel could of pulled away if he wanted but he didn’t.

The priest allowed him to pull him back to a sitting position but his body was stiff obviously intent on disregarding everything he was about to say, but Dean was on the verge of something himself and he couldn’t stem the flow of his words.

“I witnessed the end of the world.” He informed him. He waited for his words to sink in. “The Mayans were wrong by the way it happened before 2012”

Castiel turned to look at him his expression unreadable. Obviously he didn’t get the joke. His eyes danced across his face trying to read his expression.

“And guess what, you guys lost.” Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel understood the implications of what he said but he was watching him his face so close. The quiet examination seemed to spur him forwards.

“There's just chaos…” he murmured quietly thinking about his time in the pit. “And violence…” “Random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds.”

There was something almost like pity on the humans face it scorched him.

“Fucking doesn’t make you evil.” Dean assured him. Extraordinarily Castiel found himself almost believing him, even though it went against everything he knew to be true. This man had seen evil was evil, how could he be wrong about the nature of evil?

“Do you know how someone becomes a demon?” he asked staring forwards pulling his knees up to his chest his legs splayed the bottle dangling from his hands between his knees.

Castiel shook his head solemnly his head cocked studiously watching him.

“Every damn demon – they were all human once.” Castiel nodded Dean had said as much when they met.

 

“Most of us have forgotten what it means to have been human or even that we ever were human. That's what happens when you go to Hell, That's what Hell is – forgetting what you are.”

“A Philosophy lesson from a demon?” Castiel asked his voice strangely hushed and yet did he even know who he was?

“It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine. Hell isn’t a nice place even for demons.”

Castiel almost spoke but clamped his mouth shut somehow speaking now felt like it would ruin the moment, even if he was not sure why he wanted to preserve it.

“Time's different in hell” Dean continued a distant look on his face. Raising the bottle to his lips drinking deeply before letting it hang again. “As far as I can tell a month on earth is equal to a decade in hell.”

Castiel gasped surprised.

“They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you...” he looked away trailing off seemingly incapable of continuing his tone become more and more defeated as he continued.

“Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly...” his voice faltered as he continued he seemed as if he had entirely forgotten that Castiel was there.

“I would be whole again... like magic...” he whispered reverently. “Just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on...”

Castiel eyes were on his face studying him. Dean knew he was being watched he could feel the pressure of his gaze but he would not turn to meet it.

“If I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't. And I got off that rack and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. ”

It was obvious that Castiel was shaken by Dean’s confession.

There was a sheen of tears in his eyes something that surprised Dean he felt sorry for him.

“That was how I became a demon.” He finished.

Castiel knew that relations with another man was a sin. He had never questioned that. Yet every inch of his being yearned to erase the pain he saw on Dean’s face. They were already so close. He didn’t know him, not really, and he couldn’t trust him. He surely had ulterior motives, but his body moved compelled. There was no conscious thought as he bridged the gap between them and pressed his lips against Dean’s

The kiss was awkward. Castiel had risen up on his knees he leaned in to Dean who was still facing forward. His palms rested one Dean’s chest the on his shoulder for balance. The kiss was soft at first. Just a whisper against his lips it was tender far more tender than Castiel thought he was capable of. Dean’s eyes had drifted close and for a moment Castiel was in charge of the kiss, his lips rested placidly against Dean’s. Unsure how to move. He tilted his head marginally his lips tingled from the slight slide of their mouths as Dean held painfully still beneath him. The moment was short lived. Dean groaned deep in his chest and his lips moved beneath his own and sparks soared through his blood as Dean’s tongue caressed his lips.

His hand came up to cup his face slipping behind his ear tangling in his hair Dean turned towards him allowing their lips to fit more firmly together. Their bodies aligning. His mouth moved more forcefully against his as he tilted Castiel backwards. The stubble along his jaw rasped against him. All he could feel was Dean. The smell of his cologne engulfed him. Their bodies were pressed together from chest to hip both resting on their knees. The position still forced him to tilt his head back to maintain the kiss leaving him exposed as he devoured him with his mouth.

Dean mashed their lips together to the point of pain Castiel gasped before leaning into it giving up control of the kiss allowing Dean to lead him where he wanted. Dean growled at the surrender. Then just as suddenly as he possessed him with the kiss he was gone. Castiel blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the swiftly evolving situation. He kissed Dean. He hadn’t meant to but he did. He had intended on comforting him and yet he surrendered only to have the demon pull away. Dean had stood forcing his face waste high. It was very painfully obvious that Dean didn’t pull away because he wasn’t interested. He could see the outline of his arousal clearly beneath the denim.

There was something earnest in his expression, a vulnerable yearning. A cocky smile slid over his face and the vulnerability gone he was the same wicked carefree man he first met. He chuckled softly.

“You are so not ready for what would happen next.”

Dean answered in reply to Castiel’s unspoken question. Why did he pull away? Why did he remind Castiel that he was more than a body engulfed in sensations? That there was more to life that sparks that coursed through his nerve ending arching into bliss.

“I would eat you alive.” He murmured desire seeping into every word.

Heat flooded him Castiel waited for the shame to overwhelm him. It didn’t…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like it. Hell let me know if you hate it. love feedback. please don't hate it....


	6. I'm awake and I'm alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter but been busy.
> 
> The great depression started an extremely conservative fashion climate at the start of the 1930’s, this led to men’s suits being closely cut to use less fabric and save more money. Vibrant colours were seen to be in bad taste so sombre shades of greys, browns, beige or light blues were deemed more acceptable of the time.  
> I'm trying to keep everything lining up properly but if I mix up some stuff I'm sorry. I'm not really planning this one as much just seeing where it goes. 
> 
> Background Hitler invaded Poland in September of 1939. On December 5, 1942, a presidential executive order changed the age range for the draft from 21–45 to 18–38, and ended voluntary enlistment.

Crossroads Louisiana, Friday December, 8th 1939

Castiel nervously fidgeted he wore his best shirt and slacks, his only formal wear. The ones he normally only wore on Sundays. The pale blue of the shirt was faded but the lines of it were still crisp. His black tie was tucked beneath his vest and his black slacks where starting to look too short he had grown two inches since he bought them, but he had not earned enough to replace them. The depression effected the church and its ability to offer him work as much as everywhere else. There were still so many unemployed men looking for work that he counted himself lucky to be able to find the small odd jobs he did.

The orphanage did not discriminate they taught him that caring for ones items was important to all. He ironed his shirt himself. The light grey vest was frayed slightly at the bottom unraveling but he normally hid that beneath his suit jacket. He felt exposed having to remove it.

He sat on a white and green floral print settee awkwardly sipping lemonade as he waited for Margaret. His hair was slicked back from his face with water but as it dried he could feel his hair trying to fall back in place. He had saved what little money he had for tonight and a small bit of cologne he had not had enough for ointments or pomades.

Margret’s mother was fluttering about like an excited butterfly between her husband and him serving the drinks. Her light brown hair a shade or two lighter than her daughters was curled around her face. He thought she was prettier than her daughter and yet he pitied her. She was thrilled by the thought of someone calling on Margret. Margret hasn’t had many dates was all she had said beneath fluttering lashes as she served the lemonade.

Margret’s father was less receptive. He was a balding man in his late forties. His arms crossed across his chest sitting forward in his arm chair. He was a military man he fought in the Great War. “Where do you plan to take my daughter?” he asked gruffly.

Castiel cleared his throat nervously. His future depended on his ability to impress his future father-in-law. No he had not asked Margret to marry him and this was their first date, but he knew if she would accept him he would settle into marriage with her admirably. She was sweet, quiet and unassuming. When he had asked her for this date tonight she had shyly dropped her eyes from him before accepting. Her eyes were her best feature a rich mahogany brown. Soulful eyes.

“I was going to take her Milton’s” he replied quietly referring to the local drugstore soda fountain.

Her father nodded slightly. “Walking?” he asked looking at the dust on Castiel’s previously spotless shoes.

Shame permeated him. He knew that Margret’s family was above him class wise. He was a relatively poor orphan where Mr. Young owned a hardware store in town. He nodded. “Good.” Her father replied gruffly surprising him. “Cars lead to parking.” Castiel’s eyes widened. “No sir I would never…” he started but was interrupted by Margret’s appearance. Her bark brown hair pinned back at her ears she wore a pinstriped burgundy dress with a white collar that was clearly new. It bolstered his confidence she was interested in him. Her lips were reddened with rouge and a slight blush graced her cheeks. He waited for something to possess him. He waited for the feeling that every other man of his experience felt towards a beautiful woman to overcome him. There was nothing.

He didn’t give up hope, he stood too quickly and his slacks rose to expose his ankles in his rush he blushed. Perhaps he should have settled for a walk in the park and purchased new slacks.

Margret didn’t seem to notice. She smiled at him. She was plainer than her mother and many other girls he saw in church, but she had a kind heart. His palms were sweating.

“Have her back by eight.” Her father insisted generously. It was just after five. After a few more moments her mother rushed them out the door.

Margret didn’t live far from town, they set out towards Milton’s. Kicking up dust as they walked along the gravel road. This was the first time he had ever been alone with a woman, well one that wasn’t a nun. When he asked Margret out he had not thought about the silence and how it would stretch between them filling the air with an awkwardness.

As they walked she kept darting her eyes towards him. Oak and, Cypress trees lined the side of the road. In his mind when he planned this out he had not taken the walking time into consideration.

“It doesn’t feel cold enough.” He muttered awkwardly

“Pardon?” she asked he looked down at his shoes as he walked “The weather it is still warm for winter.” He muttered thinking of the slightly breezy seventy degree weather.

“Yes, it never gets too cold.” She agreed. Looking at her hands. She wore white gloves and a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun off her face. The brim of the hat covered the view he had of her face. Trying to ease the awkward tension between them he reached over and tried to take her hand. She gasped and pulled away. Disheartened he kept walking. Her hand rested on her throat. It had fluttered there after he tried to touch her hand.

They walked the rest of the way to the soda shop in silence. Once they arrived she seemed to relax. It was just after five thirty when they arrived. He quickly relieved himself in the restroom because of the nerves and lemonade.

When he came back their order had arrived. They sipped the soda in relative silence. He was trying to think of something to talk to her about. He didn’t know what he should say to her as a way to ease the tension.

“This is awkward.” He finally settled on and was pleased when she let out a startled laugh.

“What is one meant to say?” he asked she giggled again. “I don’t rightly know.” She whispered. He smiled kindly at her. “I know you like to read.” He informed her. He had often seen her reading quietly after school as a child before he had been forced to quit. He had every intention of continuing his learning but the church fell on hard times and they needed someone to help maintain the grounds.

She blushed “My mother says my head is forever in the clouds.” He grinned. “A fitting place for angels.” Her cheeks tinged even redder and she looked up at him through her lashes.

“You don’t mean that.” She insisted. It was true he didn’t, but he was trying to make her feel beautiful because a sweet innocent girl like Margret deserved to feel beautiful.  

“I do.” He insisted looking at her across the table. She beamed at him. He could picture a life with her. He would do his best to always make her happy like she was now. His happiness didn’t matter. He would do his duty and create a family as God intended and raise them in the ways of the church.

He had worked his whole life to have something that he could share with someone. He had a small bit of savings. He would be able to support her perhaps not to the same level she was accustomed to but he would offer her a good life.

They talked about the books that he enjoyed. He was pleased by how intelligent she was. She had read a great many classics and they discussed poetry and novels. There were several that they both shared and affinity for.

They spoke of their childhood Castiel left some of the details out. Like the nights he went hungry. They spoke of the invasion of Poland. Castiel knew it was uncouth to speak of politics with a woman but Margret’s eyes had flashed with interest. She had a romanticized idea of war likely from idolizing her father. They soon developed an easy rapport. He was heartened perhaps they were capable of a companionate marriage after all.

He liked the idea of a partner and a friend in life. Someone to raise children together with. Someone to trust, perhaps not with all of his secrets. He pushed his thoughts away before he ventured into un-thought of territory. He would not think of that side of himself. If he ignored it and did as God wished of him it would disappear in time. He was sure of it. He was simply still too young for desire towards women. He was after all only fifteen. Margret was slightly older than him actually. It was an unusual courtship but at eighteen she was looking for suiters and was more amendable to the idea of marriage.

He had already spoken to her father not on the idea of marriage. It was still too soon for that but he had spoken about his plans for the future. His desire to finish his schooling and eventually college he wanted to pursue a career as a doctor. He wanted to help people. That was all he ever wanted in his life.

He glanced at his watch. It was seven. If he wanted to be sure and have Margret at home on time they would need to leave soon.

The sun had mostly set leaving a little blast of orange at the edges of dying light. The temperature had dropped considerably from the low seventies down to fifty perhaps high forties. He watched Margret shiver for a moment before he promptly offered her his jacket. With his longer dress shirt sleeves he wasn’t as cold. He could feel the bit of cold air but it wasn’t painful. She used his jacket as a shrug covering her back and shoulders but leaving her arms free.

They walked slowly at first. The gravel crunching beneath their feet filling up the silence. The darkness following them until the road was completely dark. Margret seemed to be walking purposefully slow trying to force their time together to be longer. The moon came out from behind the trees shining its light across them. Her hand drifted towards him and he held it because that was what any normal man would do. It was soft and dainty and uncomfortable. He wanted another hand to engulf his someone to make him feel small. He pushed the thought away again. It was wrong a sin. He shouldn’t think that way. He was a man now fifteen he needed to get ready to start a family. If he was lucky he would be able to ignore that part of himself and put it behind him.

She smiled up at him with obvious interest. He tried to be interested in her. He truly did. Objectively he knew she was pretty. Her face, her eyes, her hair. It was beautiful but not what he wanted.

She stopped. Her lack of momentum pulled her hand from his. He turned back confused worried that he had offended her somehow. It was then he realized that they stood in almost the center of the gravel crossroads. He head was tipped back the white hat looked almost like a halo around her face. She was smiling up at him her eyes were soft and filled with emotions. It was then that realized he was the one on uneven ground. He wasn’t feeling the emotions she was. He had no desire to touch her. Her eyes met his shyly she wet her mouth with her tongue.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked quietly. He knew that was what he should be doing that he should lean in and kiss her now. That it was past time actually. It showed how abnormal he was that she had to bring it up.

He leaned in he could feel her breath on his mouth. She eagerly closed the distance between them. Her lips settling over his he felt nothing. No spark. No desire. Nothing. The kiss was wet, and too soft. He could hear the sounds of his dreams crashing around him. He couldn’t start a family with her. He knew what sex entailed. He had always imagined that he could keep his fantasies and force the issue to produce children but this kiss. It was more than he could bear. He couldn’t live a lie. Margret deserved better she liked him. Liked men. He liked men… he knew it was true had known his entire life he had tried to ignore it until now, but he couldn’t do that to her. Punish her with living a lie.

He pushed her away. She blinked up at him. She hadn’t felt anything wrong with the kiss. It was her first he realized. She had taken his first kiss and he had taken hers. It was wrong. He finally realized the truth of the matter. He hadn’t wanted her kiss. Would never cherish it. She deserved someone who would. He could never have a normal relationship. Never have children. The thought of sex with a woman had always repelled him and yet he had believe he could solider through it until now. Now he realized he would never be able to have sex with a woman. He would have to find another way to live. Another way to serve God. Within the year he was attending seminary at St. Joseph Seminary College in St. Benedict. He remained there until he was drafted in 1943.

 

*** Limbo

Dean lay on his back his head cradled in his hands behind him. His heals hooked together he hadn’t even bothered to take off his boots. He was doing exactly what Crowley ordered. A little R&R and avoiding Castiel. He had his headphones on listening to Skynyrd.

This was his decompression. Demons didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. He missed sleep. It was the ultimate human restart button. It reset your brain. Let you look at a problem from an entirely new angle. Sometimes it felt like one long day from the time he became a demon till now. It was a lot of information to sort through.   Maybe that was why it was so hard to remember his life before being a demon. Either way it kind of sucked. He was bored. He acknowledged ruefully that it hadn’t taken as long as he thought to grow tired of simply waiting for something to happen. He listened to the opening of “Simple Man” the music soothed him, but he knew he couldn’t keep laying here forever.

The mark would grow hungry eventually and he was going stir crazy just sitting around. A thought shimmied across his brain. Briefly he wondered what happened to the Impala after he died. He hadn’t thought about his baby in years. Suddenly the idea of going for a drive seemed perfect. Honestly he had almost forgotten she existed. He thought about asking Sam, but that wasn’t exactly relaxing. If he was being honest with himself he hadn’t exactly had fun since Lucifer and Michael roasted the earth.

Sure killing people had been fun-ish. The mark enjoyed it and he usually fucked someone till they passed out afterwards, but it wasn’t the same as going to a bar getting stumble down drunk and hooking up with the waitress or singing karaoke till they kicked him out and fucking some guy in the alley. Now that he thought about it a lot of his fun times involves screwing someone’s brains out.

He’d only been a demon for a few months before the big prize fight, back then he’d hadn’t had access to his own body. He’d been a regular run of the mill demon possessing people getting his rocks off and popping back down to hell. He didn’t get his body back till Cain gave him the mark.

The song ended. The silence was deafening. There had to be more to the end of the world then this? This was what demons had been fighting for since the beginning of time? It was boring as all shit. Other demons had to see it too right? For all of time they had been biding their time living among the humans now that the world ended the humans took most of the fun stuff with them.

TV didn’t exist, or radio, or bars. All that was left was him sitting alone drinking listening to old albums. Sure he could do whatever he wanted, but really what was there left to do?

“I’m getting old.” He mumbled to himself pulling the headphones off. He was getting bitter. He sat up with the intention of playing pool. He didn’t have anyone to play with but he figured if nothing else shooting the balls around would keep his mind off how lonely he was feeling.

It was the visions, it had to be. He had been fine until they started making his emotions go haywire. He liked being a demon. He liked the freedom and the power. He was just getting cabin fever.

He walked into the library surprised to see his brother sitting at a table reading through one of the books. His too long hair was tied back away from his face in a small tail leaving bangs and the rest of his hair loosely tucked behind his ears. It was a new look for him, but Dean thought it suited him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked glancing around at the good-natured scene like he’d lost his mind.

“Cas let me out.” Sam replied not looking up from the book. Dean felt like he was in some strange bizarro world, where neither Sam nor Castiel was respected him

“Cas let you out?” Dean echoed cocking his head to the side first off trying to understand how Sam got to give the human a nickname and how they even met, when he had expressly told him to stay out of the dungeon.

Sam nodded. “Nice kid, a bit young for you though.” Dean shook his head he had to be dreaming this wasn’t real.

“He’s in his late twenties.” Was all he was able to spit out.

Sam nodded absently. “A bit naïve then.” He amended.

What the hell was happening? Was he having a stroke? Could demons have a stroke?

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked continuing his thought out loud.

“I found him chained up in the storage room.” Casiel replied he was carrying a bowl of cereal. He crossed behind him to settle next to Sam.  

“Dungeon.” Dean corrected absently still looking at his brother. He looked pretty good, ashen and puny but up and walking around and he hadn’t attacked him trying to drink his blood so that was a good start.

“I told you not to go down there.” He said quietly focusing back on the conversation still avoiding Castiel. “He’s dangerous.” Dean added hazarding a glance at him. He was also ignoring him. His sudden lack of interest bothered him.

“He said the same thing about you.” The human replied his blue eyes rising to meet his. Sparks shot through him. He was impaled by that penetrating azure gaze. He was angry with him Dean realized. He seemed like he had grown a spine in the last few hours. Dean couldn’t help but smile at the thought, to say that he was spineless had never been exactly true.

He could still picture him standing in the center of that crossroads ordering him to save those people. It had never been a request. He had to admit the human had guts.

Dean stared at his brother as he continued to ignore him in favor of keeping his head firmly wedged in one of the books. What was he going to do with him?

Shoving him back in the storage room now seemed a bit callous under the circumstances.

“There are rooms if you want one.” He informed them finally. Sam smirked.

“I moved into one yesterday.”

Damn he must have been lost deeper in thought than he realized. He looked over at the priest. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar today. He still wore the black slacks and button up except the top two buttons were loose and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Dean couldn’t put his finger on the reason why he pulled away when they kissed. At the time he had assured himself he was doing it to protect the priest. The man still felt guilty about jerking it. He needed baby steps. Maybe after his time in hell when things went back to normal and their deal was up because he intended on following through with their deal, he might find a man in his own time. Still he couldn’t help wondering if he wasn’t the priest he was protecting, but himself.

There had been something there when they kissed, that had been lacking from every single kiss he’d ever known. He didn’t dare try to give it a name, because it sure as hell wasn’t love he didn’t know the man well enough and it sure as hell wasn’t pity. That was not what you wanted from a kiss. He had avoided thinking about it for days apparently. The only thing he could think of was that it had to do with their connection in the other universe. He briefly wondered if the human had thought about the kiss.

It was dumb of course the kid was the fuse that could blow up the universe. Still there was something there, a pull he could barely ignore.

“Hey earth to Dean?” Sam snapped his fingers inches from his face.

Dean turned to his brother. The thoughtful look on his face was troubling. “You alright?” he asked cautiously. His brows pinched his eyes giving him that puppy dog look he remembered. Their dynamic was precarious. For years he had been Sam’s keeper… no not his keeper his jailor. Now if he was being honest he was lonely.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He assured. Not sure why he was bothering being nice to Sam or why Sam was being nice to him for that matter.

Wasn’t the just wining about how he treated him or something like that?

Dean was not fine. Sam knew his brother. Maybe not as well as a demon but Dean was keeping something from him. That episode or whatever it was in his cell changed him somehow.

Sam was doing research. He wasn’t sure what this place was that Dean called home but it had books about the supernatural. More books than Bobby ever had access too. He was focusing on time travel. Specifically involving angels. Dean had asked him about a particular angel. Named Castiel and then suddenly a very human man from the 1950’s frees him. Something was off.

_“Saaam?”_ Sam whipped his head around at the whispered sound of his name. It couldn’t be.

He looked around there was nothing there. Just Dean and Cas. Dean was giving him a very odd look that said exactly how crazy he was acting.

“Well I need a drink.” Dean finally called out loudly giving Sam another puzzled look. He headed towards the kitchen before awkwardly looking back towards him.

“Did you want something?”

“Its 9 am.” He replied.

“Yeah.” Dean continued punctuating his words by cocking his head like it was obvious. “That’s why I was getting beer.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m good.” He looked back at his book.

_“Sammy”_   the word blew past him. He turned again still seeing nothing.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked looking up from his bowl of cereal.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “Actually no I think I’m getting a headache I’m going to go lay down.”

Cas nodded thoughtfully. He was a nice guy. He had no idea what he saw in his brother or what weird thing they had right now but he caught the way Dean was looking at him. There was something there. He knew Dean was a switch hitter. It was never a big deal considering his sexuality was pretty fluid as well, but Sam had never seen dean look at anyone like that before man or woman. He looked at him as if he was a puzzle he was obsessed with trying to figure out.

**_“Sam!”_** the voice was unmistakable this time

Sam held his head trying to ignore what he knew was true.

He walked into his bedroom and there he stood. He wasn’t how he remembered him. He last remembered Lucifer in the mirror possessing him. Lucifer was wearing the guise of his previous victim Nick. He was sprawled casually across the bed.

“Hi, Sam. Long time, no spooning.” His voice was sultry. Fear and something else shot through him.

“You're not here.” Sam insisted pointing at him. “You're in Heaven.”

He grinned “Now, that you're right on.”

“I’m Hallucinating.” Sam insisted rubbing his temples trying to force the vison away.

“I’m coming down from all that demon blood. This isn’t really happening I am combining memories of you with the present.”

Lucifer languidly moved off the bed and sauntered towards him. “Hmm.” He mused nodding thoughtfully “That's very good, your little theory. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. “It's wrong.” he continued flatly. He stepped forward and laid a hand across his face. His words were tinged with sympathy.

“Sam, this isn't you going guano. This is _me_ coming back to you.”

What?” he asked his heart lurching in his chest.

“I’ve missed you Sam.” his voice was pitched seductively. Sam looked away. “That's impossible.”

Lucifer grabbed his chin forcing him to look at him. Sam gasped surprised how real his touch felt, but it had always felt real. Every time Lucifer came to him in his own head it felt real. “No.” he continued firmly. “Escaping was impossible. Didn’t I tell you to wait for me? That I would be back?” he asked softly.

Sam tried to look away again and avoid Lucifer’s eyes. In this incarnation they were Nick’s eyes but Lucifer had come to him in many incarnations in the past. As Jess, as Nick, as a mirror of himself, as Dean. Sam shuddered.

“Yes.” He whispered. Lucifer had told him that he would be back once he was done with Heaven.

“I would have been back sooner but somebody kept you in a warded room.”

Sam stepped back Nick’s frame was shorter than him, but it felt like he filled up the room.

“You wouldn’t do that to me right?” he crooned. “It was someone else… right? who kidnapped you?”

It was then that Sam realized that Lucifer didn’t know what had happed. He wasn’t inside his head. If he was he would have known everything Sam knew. This really was a hallucination. Lucifer was appearing to him but he hadn’t said yes Lucifer needed him to say yes again.

            Lucifer couldn’t actually read his thoughts like this but he knew him having lived with him for years.

“Yes I do need you to say yes…, but you could never say no to me. Not even when I fucked you as your brother.” Sam pulled away again ashamed. “As I recall…” Lucifer continued placing his finger thoughtfully against his lips “You screamed yes over and over as I rammed your brother’s cock in your ass.”

“Shut up!” Sam shouted turning his back on him. He didn’t want to think about that. It was just another part of himself that he was ashamed of. Lucifer brought out the worst in him. Pushed him into doing terrible things. Physically with his body killing people and in his mind he succumbed to him. He let Lucifer do terrible things to him and at first he fought against it then he craved it. He missed him too. He knew it was twisted and fucking depraved and yet all these years of freedom and he still thought about him when he came.

“Let’s talk Sam I always enjoyed our special little talks.”

“No.” Sam insisted turning back to Lucifer.

He scowled. “What do you mean no?”

“I’m saying no to you Lucifer. You can’t have my body back.”

Lucifer raised both hands up in a gesture of supplication

“Ok I see you need some space but I’ll be back and you will say yes to me Sam. You did it once before you will do it again in every way.”

“I’ll put up the enochian warding.” Sam threatened.

Satan smiled “No… Sam you won’t because deep inside you want me back. You liked having me in charge. You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of seeing where it goes the Sam/Hallucifer was a bit of a surprise and so was the imaginary sam/dean soo if you guys like it ill roll with it if you don't ill leave it in the past.


	7. The man who sold the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Col. Nagayoshi Sanonebu.
> 
> **** I am not abandoning this fic but I am trying to participate in NaNoWriMo so I plan to be on hiatus for November****

The Pacific Theatre WWII 1945

Zig Zag Pass

The last week had been a nonstop onslaught of frenzied action. Not so much combat but movement. At 20 Castiel had been in the army for nearly two years and yet he had never seen combat. The division had just finished a 6 month assignment in New Guinea, mostly unloading bombs from ships, before that it was training and the duty of the defense of Oahu. New Guinea was a mere 10 degrees from the equator. The heat was ungodly, growing up he thought the summers in Louisiana were hot. He thought that he would be able to handle the heat. He’d been wrong. Refrigeration was a luxury not known there the men buried their sodas and beer in the ground in a mostly futile attempt to cool them.

At the time he thought his camp in the jungle was close to hell. Later he realized it was heavencompared to combat. He was being called into action now because Nagayoshi had decided to make a stand in the rugged Zambales Mountains at the northern base of the Bataan peninsula, which the Americans had nicknamed 'Zig-Zag Pass'. The mountain range was on the western Luzon Island in the Philippines it separated Luzon's central plain from the South China Sea. Their goal was to take back the Bataan peninsula in an effort to secure the western shore of Manila Bay. From there it would enable the use of its harbor and open new supply lines for American troops engaged in the crucial battle for the liberation of Manila. On 29 January 1945, they had landed in the San Narciso area of the southern province of Zambales, Luzon. As he splashed ashore all he could think about was the water flooding into his boots. His heart was pounding in his ears his panting breathes filled his entire body. They met no opposition. It had been a relief to him at the time. From there they promptly dashed to the San Marcelino airstrip but found that Filipino guerrillas under the command of Captain Ramon had already secured the field three days earlier. The port facilities at Olongapo were captured by the 34th Regiment Combat Team on 30 January as well as Grande Island in Subic Bay after an amphibious landing.

The next assignment was a twenty mile hike. An exhausting and excruciating march with full back pack, cartridge belt, hand grenades and rifle. He wished that he could say that walking twenty miles through the jungle was the worst part of the war but it was incidental compared to the sniper fire, artillery, and the loss of several men along the way and nothing compared to the bloody full combat the next few days would bring. It was February first when they moved into the pass.

Zig Zag Pass slithered its way through the mountain jungle like a snake. The only thing that attacked him at first was mosquitoes. Probably seeing the repellent and his M-1943 Uniformas a challenge. The route was highly defendable, almost impassable. At the time there were rumbles of it being a suicide mission but Castiel didn’t believe it he had faith in the mission. The chaplain prayed with them. No one discussed theological questions about the existence of God they just prayed that something somewhere would keep them from a bullet on a quest to rip through their insides.

They were all afraid. You could see the panic on men's faces. He was no different. He was terrified. Zig Zag Pass was just a few pieces of ground combined to the same degree of roughness and dense jungle. The main road, Route 7 twisted violently through the pass, following a path of least resistance that wild pigs must originally have established. The jungle flora in the region was so thick that someone could step five yards off the highway and not be able to see the road. The Japanese had honey-combed every hill and knoll at the Zig-Zag with foxholes linked by tunnels or trenches; at particularly advantageous Points they had constructed strong points centered on log or dirt pillboxes. All the defenses were well camouflaged, for rich, jungle foliage covered most positions, indicating that many had been prepared with great care and had been constructed well.

The division started the push into Zig-Zag Pass. The enemy didn't push very easily after about three miles of steady progress, the 152nd Regiment ran into Japanese strongpoints at Horseshoe Bend, the first known major Zig-Zag Pass obstacles. Castiel shot at the enemy but he was never sure if he killed anyone. The Japanese were so well concealed you could step over them, or fall into them. It was really slow advancing. Partially because of the terrain. They were constantly shifting between being pinned down with sniper, or machine gun fire and advancing as artillery and fire bombs dropped from low flying airplanes would clear out the junglein front of them. Castiel got hit with some shrapnel early on it wasn’t much it burned his arm the searing pain was nothing with his body flooded with adrenaline he just kept on fighting.

The Japanese continued to defend the Pass at all costs. Their dogged resistance was almost admirable if it wasn’t so terrible. It constantly pulled on his conscious they would fight to the death rarely surrendering instead choosing death over their apparent dishonor. It was bloody and brutal. Killing them gave him no pleasure. Some felt the need for revenge that this was avenging those lost in Pearl Harbor and the The Bataan Death March. Castiel didn’t believe that he had been taught that no life was more worthy than another. Yet he didn’t argue with the morality of combat it wasn’t his place to question if what he was doing was right he was defending his country, and so were they.

At first it was chaos the Japanese kept shooting the leaders. No one could see where the fire was coming from. People kept being hit and going down but never from the same direction at a time. Castiel spun around and around his breath catching anxiously in his throat his heart pounding he wasn’t sure if he was important enough to be next or if a Japanese bullet really cared if he wasn’t important. Eventually they realized that the Japanese had tied snipers up into the tops of these trees. Suicide missions.  Once the division found out what was going on, people began to fire up into the trees.  He could hear them yell out in pain and then it would be over... Castiel knew it was wrong that he shouldn’t be killing that it was one of Gods commandments, but here he wasn’t a man of God when all of this was done maybe he would still be able to go back to seminary and finish his schooling if he lived that long but for now he was a solider and you obey orders in battle.

The battle wasn’t one single day it was a slew of days lumped together in rapid succession. At night he would dig his foxhole have a quick dinner of C rations then pray that he would make it through the night. The nights were still hot but it was a slight respite from the day. The stars were different here maybe it was the angle but it felt like another world. Artillery would put a barrage of explosives all around them about 75 to 100 feet out. To keep any infiltration from coming in on them under the cover of darkness. During the day the combat continued ever slowly pushing forward.They bled for every mile of that pass. February 13th was the last day in the fight for Zig Zag Pass.  In two weeks, American troops had forced their way through a seemingly impregnable gauntlet. As evidence to the ferocity of the struggle, XI Corps killed about 2,400 of the 2,800-man Japanese force while taking only 25prisoners. It was bloody and violent to the point that Castiel feared that he would be an old man and still wake to nightmares about this battle thirty years later. Finally, on 21 February, after three years, Bataan was again secure in American and Filipino hands. The 38th Division were known as the "Avengers of Bataan" Castiel could never decide if it was a title he was honored or ashamed to have.

As of 14 August 1945, the 38th Infantry Division had completed an unbroken stretch of 198 consecutive days in combat, officially killing 26,469 enemy combatants, and taking 1411 Japanese prisoners. Although officially not engaged in major combat after 14th August, he spent his 21st birthday moppingup Japanese stragglers in the Luzon area on the 20th and afterwards until the signing of the VJ Day surrender documents on 2 September 1945. Even after VJ Day, the division's combat outposts continued to net prisoners until the division was officially relieved on 5 October 1945. In the final tally, the 38th Infantry Division fought against more than 80,000 Japanese, killing 26,732 and ultimately taking more than 13,000 prisoners. He returned to the United States October 30th 1945. From there he continued his schooling in St. Benedict a changed man. As a child he had never really questioned the existence of God, but he had questioned God’s plan for him. Why did God create him in a way that he could not live as God wanted? Now he no longer questioned. God had kept him alive in that jungle for a purpose. He was meant to follow the path God laid out for him. That path didn’t necessarily cover his happiness, but the good that he could do. In serving his country he had done things that went against God he would not do that again. He would dedicate his life to service.

***

The blood curdling scream echoed off the rounded sides of the room going on impossibly longer than one expected. They were in his dungeon… well one of his dungeons after all as the king of hell you had to have plenty of space for interrogation. The dingy grey walls looked identical to any of his numerous other dungeons. The angel in the chair did not look like any of his other prey. After a brief pause the scream started anew. Crowley pulled the silver angel blade slowly out of the angel he paused a moment to allow the boy to catch his breath. He didn’t particularly look very angelic in his red and white Wiener Hut uniform but Samandriel was one of the last Angel’s to snatch up a vessel after the apocalypse. Why he wore a wiener hut uniform was not one of the questions that Crowley was interested in. Not when he has so many other juicy tidbits of information. That mystery would have to wait.  He supposed he was lucky that he got what he did. Or perhaps unlucky in this case since he was in his clutches.

“What do you want?” he bawled gasping in pain his voice cracking. “I've given you all the names.” He swore shakily. The little angel was covered in blood and other grime. Crowley had kept him on hand since the apocalypse you never knew when having an angel with clipped wings around might be useful. After Lucifer went to heaven they fell. All of them angels shooting to the ground like strange meteors. Lucifer ejected all the angels from heaven. The lucky ones found vessels and were immediately killed by Croats. The others were killed on impact or slowly rounded up by his black eyed boys.

“No. No. No. And no.” he insisted gesturing with the angel blade on each word.

“That's not what I want to hear.” He maintained as he twirled the blade as he spoke.

He cut the angel and was rewarded by another long loud scream. Like music to his ears. It was times like this where he thought maybe he’d retire find a nice placePatagonia and ply his trade as a negotiator and torture at his leisure not when he desperately needed the information that stubborn angels refused to give him.

“This hurts you more than it hurts me,” he continued sardonically

“So I can go on forever. Which, in your case, forever means... well, forever.” He finished smiling derisively.

“When the angels find out what you're doing...” The pitiable boy began halfheartedly. They had this conversation before and while the young man’s faith in his confederates was admirable it was poorly placed.

“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times… there are no more angels in heaven.” He continued exasperated. He gestured with the blade “And if they weren’t all dead they still wouldn’t be coming for you. Because you are helping me hunt each one down.”

“So, on the count of three... tell me have you left out the names of certain angels?

There was a puzzled look on his face. Samandriel practically didn’t even need to be tortured when it came down to it. His face was expressive it was easy to read that he had no idea what Crowley was talking about. “One, two...”

He plunged the knife into Samandriel the little angel screamed again his raw voice cracking in pain as he sobbed. It was strange he almost wanted to punish the little angel for believing in him.

“What happened to three?” he whined breathlessly. It was oddly cute in a strange way to see how trusting the angel was after all of this he still took him at his word. It was a pity really. If things had been different he might have had some fun with the little angel but torturing someone for years on end had a tendency to put one off.

“I lied.” He insisted clearly. “I do that.” He continued knowing by now his words should be obvious but somehow the angel still believed him. It actually bothered him sometimes

“Just give me the other names.” “There are no other names!” he finally screamed. Crowley paused.

“The next generation isn't born yet. If what you say is true will never be born.”

Crowley knelt so he could look the angel in the eye. His blue eyes were pleading with him. “Truth?” he asked cautiously

“Truth.” He gasped relieved that he finally believed him. “I have told you the names of all the angel’s Castiel isn’t one of them.”

Dean wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. Crowley had come to the same conclusion he knew Dean had somehow Castiel was meant to be an angel why he wasn’t was really the big question.

“Well, I suppose there's no reason to keep torturing you, then.” He planned on plunging the knife back into the boy punctuating his point that he couldn’t be trusted but he paused when he saw his face.

He sighed heavily. He put the knife down slowly and took off the blood spattered white apron he was wearing over his tailored suit. It was especially hard to get new suits these days after the Croats ate his tailor.

There was something akin to hope on the angel’s face when he set the blade down.

Crowley turned to the demon standing next to the door.

“Clean him up.”

“Sir?” he asked surprised.

“Did I stutter?” Crowley growled

“Clean him up and keep him on ice. We've only just scratched the surface with this one.”

He continued the underling snapped to attention and moved to comply. He stepped out the door and past another demon who was standing guard.

“It’s hard to find good help these days.” He muttered to himself loud enough for the other demon to hear.

The second demon scurried to join the first hoisting Samandriel to his feet supporting him with his arms.

“And get him some clean clothes.” Crowley snapped. The three of them looked up at him confused. His two henchmen looked like he had grown a second head and little Alfie looked up at him with awe. “If I have to look at the red and white monstrosity for a moment longer I’ll lose my lunch.” He added to save face.

They carried the angel away and he sighed. He was growing soft. He knew it was true what the world’s angriest ginger said about him. Hell wasn’t the force that it used to be and neither was he, but the whole sodding world had got to hell in a handbasket as it were and while the idea of ruling the world was nice, in practice it was bloody awful. The moment he became king there was a target placed on his back. That was fine, he was used to dealing with threats against him. What he wasn’t used to was the lull that came with wining. He was bored, astonishingly, phenomenally, outlandishly bored.

It wouldn’t be long now before they found out about his dirty little habit. He had been shooting up with human blood. At first it had simply been an experimentation. He had seen the effects that demon blood had on Sam Winchester. His curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t expect human blood would make him stronger he had simply thought it might allow him an insight into the human mind he’d lost after all these years and he had been correct. He had underestimated how addictive it would be. He’d simply forgotten what being human was like. He forgot how overwhelming human emotions were.

Once he got a taste it was impossible not to want another. There was very little diverting activities left after the fall of humanity. They had won, after millennia spent fighting for control they had it all, and it was bloody awful.

Lucifer burned humanity off the face of the earth. It left his kind with precious little to do except fight amongst themselves. While that was something they were quite good at it lacked a greater purpose. Most of the hell bound souls were already in his care the rest of humanity was fighting to stay alive or Lucifer’s chew toys in heaven. There was still the matter of Abbadon to take care of. Also Lucifer, if he ever decided to try to reclaim his throne or more likely murder them all. Still for now it was peaceful. All his existence Crowley had been ambitious, during his mortal life that ambition might have been limited to whoring and drinking his fill but ambition it was. Now? He had nothing to look forward to.

All those years ago when he met Dean Winchester in that relative silence of that night in Louisiana he would never have believed that this was the path his life would take. Dean clarified his goal. Already he had been working with Lilith in the master plan, but he realized then he could have it all and he had achieved everything he had ever set out to. All of his goals had been met and then exceeded. There was the small fact that their reality might be ripping apart at the seams, but even that was not quite enough to stir him from his melancholy. His musing had taken him back to his office where Tyson Brady was waiting for him.

The sandy haired man stood when he entered the room, at least some demons still respected him. He wore a custom tailored dark colored suit with a red tie. It suited him, but there was a world weary wary expression on his face that Crowley found troubling.

Brady was old regime, he had been instrumental to the apocalypse back in the day and had been a loyal and semi-trusted employee ever since. With demons you could only trust them so far before it was suicidal. Still Brady was one of the few that always delivered. It was in his best interest to and while the man might have had a masochistic tendency a mile wide he wasn’t about to allow someone else to harm him, he liked the pain, not losing.

“You said to come and see you if Dean Winchester came to me.”

Crowley crossed the room and sat his desk and waited for Brady to continue when he didn’t he spoke up

“Well get on with it.” he groused. “What happened?”

Brady didn’t flinch from his eye contact, which impressed him. Crowley could always smell the self-loathing on certain gay men. Homophobia wasn’t just a disease of the heteros. Hell was filled with those that hated, gay straight didn’t matter it was the hate that brought out the worst in people.

“We had sex.” He continued plainly

Crowley sighed rolling his hand for Brady to continue. “And….?” He probed leadingly

“Are you asking what positions?” Brady asked his tone expressionless

“If I wanted smut I’d pick up an erotica, what did he do? Did his behavior seem off?”

Brady nodded seeming much more comfortable with the line of questioning.

“He seemed preoccupied.” Brady admitted.

“By the mark?” Crowley asked cautiously

He shook his head firmly. “The mark always is a part of it but it wasn’t that.”

“Then what, I’m paying you to spell it out not talk in riddles.”

“The human.”

“Human?” Crowley asked briefly confused before the pieces clicked into place. He meant Castiel. Even though he had told the man to stay away, Dean always had trouble with authority.

“He was watching, it seemed accidental but it absolutely turned him on.”

Crowley nodded absorbing the information carefully turning it over trying to find the best angle.

“One more thing.” Brady added. “He isn’t killing.” This got Crowley’s attention he sat up straight in his chair and leaned forward his hands folded on his desk.

“You are certain?” he inquired

Brady nodded firmly again. He had the dignity to meet his eyes as he spoke.

“The ferocity of the mark was plain.” Crowley knew that if anyone was equipped to tell it was Brady. When Dean was first turned the mark was ravenous killing wasn’t enough neither was sex, it wanted to combine the two. If Brady had been human he would have never survived.

“He didn’t remember.” Brady continued further.

“That’s interesting.” Crowley muttered digesting memory loss went with the territory. The longer you lived the harder it was to remember your life before or even the beginning of your new life, but Dean’s transition with the mark was fairly recent the memory loss was unique.

“He still has control for now,” Brady added cautiously. Crowley knew it was the human blood the moment the thought crossed his mind but he felt sorry for Brady, the man had been viciously beaten within an inch of his life Dean had crushed his larynx. As a rule that was the difference between demons and angels, angels healed their vessels and demons would continue to possess a corpse if they had to, it didn’t mean they were incapable of healing. It just took longer and it was painful, but with vessels being scarce these days he couldn’t risk finding a new one. Still the pity came from the fact that the man volunteered for this.

“I’ll be sure to send something for him to kill his way soon.” Crowley added dismissively he didn’t want Brady knowing any more than he needed to on the subject, he didn’t quite trust his motives in this. He assumed the man wanted revenge. If the places were reversed he would.

“Thank you for coming to me.” He continued.

“There is the matter of payment.” Brady continued.

“Of course.” Crowley agreed hesitantly.

“I assume you have something in mind.” They things he had used as incentives in the past would no longer be a viable option.

“I want a favor.” He continued firmly. Crowley watched trying to discern his motivation.

“Never know when a favor from the king of hell may come in handy.” He finished.

***

Dean stared at the beer in the fridge. Mostly to buy himself time before he saw Castiel again. He wasn’t sure how he was doing it but that man had an effect on him. He softened him, because of him Sam was walking around the bunker like it was fine and he didn’t have the strength to lock him away again. That was a whole other can of emotional worms that he’d opened up there.

After that vision he had noticed himself feeling emotions about his brother again. He cared about his brother. He could no longer say that he didn’t give a fuck what happened to him.

When Lucifer left him, city blocks had exploded Dean assumed it was a defense all the demons in the area had been obliterated in the bright white light. At the time they hadn’t exactly been in an overt war meaning as far as the low rank extra demons were concerned everything was status quo but somehow Lucifer had known what Crowley was planning.   Lucifer left his vessel because they were going to kill him.

As a being of celestial intent in heaven or without a vessel there wasn’t really anything that could be done to kill him, but also his ability to interact with the world was limited. Once he took a physical form it left him open to attack. The man knew that and abandoned his brother.

            They hadn’t yet gotten to the point of a fight. Crowley had been worried about his loyalties but the problem was it hadn’t mattered. At the time if he had been asked to stab Sam in the heart he would have complied easily. Now the idea of Lucifer wearing his brother to the prom bothered him immensely. Castiel made him soft. It was more than just Sammy. He couldn’t get him out of his head. That whole time he spent alone in his room he had been fighting thinking about the human. He wanted to know things about him. What made him tick? Things about his life, what made him happy? Who he loved? He assumed wanting to pray the gay away had more to do with the time period he grew up in rather than him as a person, but he assumed that meant he had little experience and that intrigued the hell out of him. There was an entire section of his brain dedicated to picturing him naked in as many different sexual scenarios possible.

Dean reached in to the fridge adjusting himself with his free hand just thinking about how much he could teach the preacher made him start to get hard and uncomfortable. This was fucking ridiculous. So yeah he had always had a bit of a virgin kink. He liked those with experience a lot but the thought of being with someone untouched to him meant that he could see the expression on their face the first time they felt anything. It left the world open for possibilities. It also closed them down he would have to work slowly. If someone had experience he could jump straight into kink, but a virgin would be overwhelmed there was too much of a chance that he wouldn’t fully have their consent. He was a demon but he didn’t need to force anyone to have sex.

The coldness in his hand brought him back to reality. He thought about grabbing one for Sammy anyway even though he’d declined knowing he rather drink it that let it waste, but he thought better of it. He should stay away from them both like Crowley wanted. He wasn’t really supposed to interact with his brother any more than he had to either. He was meant to be insurance, nothing more, but still he found himself seeking the priest out.

***

Castiel was trying to be indifferent towards Dean. He truly was. He knew kissing him was wrong but he didn’t truly regret it either. There was something liberating about Dean knowing that he was attracted to men. Attracted to him. The momentary softness was worth the crippling guilt he felt afterwards, he just couldn’t allow it to happen again. he had years of practice ignoring his bodies desires he wasn’t sure what about Dean made it impossible for him to control his reactions but he would redouble his efforts. He had promised this demon ten years of his life, but that did not mean he would give up everything for him. He still intended to discover the truth. Dean was hiding something from him, he had said that he had to take him. Then he had spoken about the end of the world. The thoughts of the apocalypse terrified him. Dean had not said much about it other than it happened before 2012 the date sounded ridiculously far in the future but it was only sixty two years. In theory he could live to see it.

Finding Sam had been a surprise. After Dean abandoned him his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Obedience was in his nature but there where time when it was not in his best interest. What he had found was not what he had expected to be sure, but the alcohol gave him courage. The alcohol had been buzzing in his brain as he opened the cell, he wasn’t sure what he had expected but Sam Winchester was not it.

Sam Winchester was friendly and articulate and surprisingly he defended his brother on the same breath that he said he was dangerous. Rather than worry about himself he had asked how about Castiel and how came to be here and when Castiel told him he made a deal with Dean a shadow of something crossed his face before disappearing. More deals he had said and those words struck a chord inside him and he couldn’t forget them.

It was something that Castiel didn’t understand. How could his brother be so forgiving? Dean had explained that time in hell was different than time on earth that was how it was possible for Sam to be alive and Dean to be a demon for decades. Yet for Sam it had only been eight years. There had been such sadness there. Castiel didn’t need to ask to know that Sam felt that it was his fault that Dean had him here. That it was his fault the way Dean was. Castiel wasn’t sure how that was possible but he wanted to ask Dean.

“Do you play pool?” Dean asked walking into the room a beer in hand.

He took a moment to look around “Where’s Sammy?” he wondered.

“He went to lay down he had a headache.” Castiel replied. Dean scowled. It wasn’t really like his brother he had seen him stich himself shut with little more than a flinch or two.

He nodded anyway acknowledging the fact. “Do you?” he asked again

“What?” Castiel wondered. Dean shook his head and grabbed the man by the wrist pulling him gently up from his chair and leading him towards the war room… ok it was a game room, but war room sounded cooler right?

“Come on padre even if you don’t I’ll show you how.”

He had never actually played pocket billiards, but it was easily to pick up the concept. Watching Dean play was like watching physics in action. Castiel had to admit that there wasn’t much sport in playing with Dean. He was a natural, Castiel fumbled to keep up with him but it was a mostly pointless gesture, yet being in his company was nice enough. It was times like this when he let his guard down. It didn’t really occur to him how alone he was in his daily life. In the church he was rarely physically alone there were a constant sea of parishioners and the children in the orphanage, sister Hester, even his foster brother Gabriel and Balthazar, but none of them knew him. He always had a part of himself hidden from them. Perhaps not from Balthazar it was hard to say with that man he was enigmatic.

This was nice. Dean realized. It had been a long time since he relaxed around someone. Castiel was no threat to him. Even if he wanted to hurt him he couldn’t.

“Tell me about yourself.” Dean found himself asking

The man stood slowly blinking obviously surprised by the question.

“Why?” he asked cautiously.

“To fill the silence.” Dean snapped annoyed. It was stupid either way. It shouldn’t matter, but he wanted to know about the human before him.

“What do you want to know?” he finally asked quietly. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure how to open up any more than he did.

“Why did you become a priest?” Dean wondered as he sunk another ball.

Castiel opened his mouth to tell him the answer he always did. That he felt an immense calling towards service. It was what he had told Margret as a way to dissolve their fragile relationship. She had cried but she had respected his decision as well.

“And none of that bullshit about serving god is reward enough or whatever you guys say.”

Dean insisted punctuating his words with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Castiel knew his mouth was still gaping. He had never really thought of it that way.

“Honestly?” he whispered.

Dean straightened from where he leaned over the table cue in hand he planted the cue next to him leaning against it for support.

“Yes.” He replied simply.

“I didn’t know what else to do” he replied quietly. It was really the first time he had said it out loud. When he first decided to join the church it was out of fear. He was afraid that if he did not give himself purpose and direction he would fall to sin. It seemed at least with what was happening between Dean and him he might have been right.

Dean was watching him his eyes on his face.

“I knew I couldn’t have a family I found that out the hard way.” A slight frown marred his features but it was only a moment Castiel couldn’t be sure what he had been thinking about.

“It wasn’t until after the war that my faith was restored.”

“The war?” Dean asked curious.

Castiel frowned. “The second world war” he continued. “Surely the world hasn’t so quickly forgotten about it?”

Dean nodded “No I just… I didn’t picture you as a solider.” He admitted. There was admiration in his voice. The kind that only came from those who had also served. From what Sam had said Dean may not have been an enlisted man in the plainest sense of the world but he was a soldier in another life.

“I was drafted in the midst of my seminary.” He responded.

Dean nodded thoughtfully again. “No family?” he wondered, but he knew it was true before Castiel continued. He had loneliness around him, if he had family they had never been close.

Castiel looked away briefly. The earnest expression on Dean’s face was too much for him.

“I was abandoned at Our Lady of the Angels as a child.” There was compassion on his face.

“That’s rough.” He continued. “My mother died when I was a kid.” As he said the words shock crossed his face. It was almost as if he was remembering something he had forgotten.

“I am sorry.” Castiel replied and he was. The look on the other man’s face was enough to make him forget that he was a demon.

Dean shrugged “It was a long time ago.” His voice was hollow. Purposefully devoid of emotion.

“Sam said as much.” Castiel admitted.

Dean turned to him walking around the pool table to lean casually against it now on the same side as him.

“What else did Sam say?” he wondered. “He said it was his fault you became a demon.”

Dean scowled. Why would Sam say that? He wondered, but nodded absently.

“Is that so?” he responded vaguely Castiel nodded “He said you made a deal.”

The memory flashed before his eyes Sam walking towards him a man with a knife outstretched behind him.

“Sam look out.” Was all he had managed to say before the other man stabbed him in the back.

Sammy had died in his arms. It wasn’t as vivid as the visons he had been having of the alternative universe but the memory had be buried underneath the surface and he had forgotten it.

“I sold my soul to bring Sam back.” He replied subdued.

He remembered now…Bobby had been furious with him…

There was a distant look on Dean’s face. He was lost in thought.

The vulnerability slipped away and cocky wickedness settled into place as he grinned.

“So did you ever have a girlfriend?” before he could reply Dean continued “Boyfriend?”

He blushed. “I courted a woman named Margret,”

“So are you telling me I was your first kiss?” He asked changing the subject

“What...” Castiel asked having difficulty catching up to the thread of the conversation.

“No… there was a woman.” He maintained.

Dean grinned again even his teeth looked attractive. White and strong he imagined them nipping at his neck biting at his shoulder and surprised himself.

“So you’re saying I’m still the first one that counted.” He continued stepping forward. In that instant his heartbeat began to race. That was all it took. His body didn’t give a damn that this was wrong. That this man was a manipulative damaged individual who was using him from some purpose that he wouldn’t explain.

“Tell me the truth.” Dean continued his voice sultry

“Yes.” He whispered. Dean grinned. A marvelous idea sprang into his mind, from the portion of his brain dedicated to getting Cas naked.

“Do you want to play a game?” he asked and immediately felt like Jigsaw. Yeah horror movies were a guilty pleasure of his.

Castiel frowned. “We were playing a game.” He pointed out indicating the pool table Dean shook his head.

“No a different game.” He continued. He was excited more excited than he should be for such a juvenile game.

“What kind of game?” he wondered.

“Truth or dare. I tell you the truth in exchange for your dare?” he knew that wasn’t the typical format but he also knew that he could bribe the padre a lot easier with promises of the truth than thoughts of dares. The man was too repressed for that at least for now. Was it a bit manipulative? Yes. Very much so, but he was a demon.

Castiel felt like this was a trap. Hell he knew it was a trap, and yet the idea intrigued him. He wanted the truth. Dean had hinted at many things so far as his captor but he had never told him the direct truth. This was a way he could get it. Once a demon made a deal he knew they had to follow through with it, but he also knew that the dares would likely be sexual in nature.

“And if I don’t complete the dare?” he wondered.

“Then you don’t get the truth.” Dean replied simply. He wouldn’t make the priest do something he didn’t want to. He might make him do something he wanted to but was too repressed to think of but if he was ever actually uncomfortable he would give him an out.

Castiel realized he must be losing his mind. Just an hour ago he has sworn to redouble his efforts to resist Dean and now he was contemplating allowing him to have control.

“Do I pick the questions?” Castiel asked hesitantly. It was that moment that Dean knew he had him.

“Of course. But the questions set the pace of the dares. The harder the question is to answer the harder the dare.”

“Tell me about the apocalypse.” Castiel ordered finally Dean grinned mischievously

“In exchange I dare you to tell me your sexual fantasies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.everytownusa.com/world-war-ii/wayne-sandefur-zig-zag-pass/#comments  
> http://www.subicbaypi.com/sub_stories_battlezigzag.htm  
> This is my sources to help me write about the zig zag pass. I am not Trying to take credit for what they have written or gone through just trying to make things a bit more authentic.  
> also somehow the word count for this chapter came out as 6666 so Happy Halloween.


	8. Eyes of the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> THERE IS NON-CON ELEMENTS IN THIS CHAPTER BETWEEN SAM AND LUCIFER.

***

Crossroads, Louisiana July 29th, 1950

“There you are.” Castiel called out spying Balthazar in the sanctuary. The altar was nestled in the crescent shaped alcove at the head of the church. The overhead lights were currently turned off leaving the church dim illuminated only by the colored sunlight filtered through stained glass windows. Balthazar was looking up in the face of Jesus. “How goes the research?” he asked. Without looking towards him. The sanctuary was slightly raised from the rest of the church. Four steps separated them as Castiel came to a stop.

“Fine.” Castiel replied not elaborating any further. He didn’t want Balthazar knowing what he was truly researching. He knew the man well enough to realize he would stop him. Balthazar was baffling to him in many ways but he was a loyal friend.

He kept his face turned towards the cross.

“I can never understand why you lot have such a fascination with the crucifixion.”

He whispered Castiel wasn’t sure what he meant by his comment.

“Is it the torture?” he mused “The nudity?” he continued quirking his brows.

“It is about sacrifice.” Castiel replied. Balthazar turned to him. He watched him his eyes traveled over him in a way that made him feel vaguely objectified. There were a few times over the years when he questioned Balthazar’s friendly interest in him. While he found the older man attractive. Those thoughts were unnatural and sinful so he largely ignored them. Balthazar had never crossed the invisible line that he had drawn in the sand.

“Sacrifice is overrated.” He murmured a sad little quirk to his lips. “A little hedonism in life never killed anyone.”

Castiel shook his head he was used to his friend saying things like that. The man was incorrigible.

His pale eyes softened and he shook his head softly. “One of these days I am going to get you to flirt back with me.” He contemplated aloud wistfully.

Castiel turned away from the man. His face becoming heated. He couldn’t possibly be aware of what he was saying. “You don’t know what you are talking about Balthazar it is a sin.” That elicited a dark chuckle from his friend. As he stepped past the altar to stand with him in the aisle. He was very close. He could feel his body heat radiating towards him. They were the same height so their eyes were level.    

“No the sin is God or whoever making you a priest,” he spat the word as if the very idea of it offended him. Castiel could not bring himself to break eye contact, there was a strange pull. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man raise his hand as if he was about to cup his face before dropping it. “The sin is giving you those beautiful blue eyes and then making you a no fly zone.” He continued his words baffling him. “You are so young.” Balthazar looked away and that seemed to have broken the spell. He felt uncomfortable. Nothing happened and yet it felt like the moment was charged.

Castiel frowned. “What are you saying?” he asked.

Balthazar sighed heavily. Still looking away. “Nothing.” He turned back to him. A large smile on his face. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over It.” he continued dismissively patting him on his head before walking quickly past him out into the rest of the church. He spun back towards him his arms spread wide.

“I need to get out of here, I can’t breathe, want to go out for a bite?” he continued.

Castiel shook his head, he wasn’t sure what that moment meant but he did not want it repeated.

“Your loss.” He grinned, but there was something unspoken on his face. A yearning.

Something was troubling him. The things he had said last night made even less sense when he thought back on them now than they did last night.

He chalked it up to the drunken ramblings of a lonely man. What if he was wrong?

Balthazar stalked away from the church he couldn’t watch the human who was and wasn’t Castiel any longer.

***

Lucifer sat in his throne all of heaven at his feet. Heaven was boring. Obviously it was better than the cage but everything in existence was better than the cage. His current version of heaven looked like the inside of the Vatican, he found the gold inlay a bit ostentatious, but when you ruled all of heaven and earth you needed to look the part. Currently he favored Nick’s charming visage. He idly drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne in an agitated staccato. At first it was gratifying to have his brother’s bow before him in supplication.

Lucifer had to admit that it was better to be feared than loved. The humans got that one right, but he wasn't a monster. He wasn't angry at them. He was angry at their father who even now refused to show himself. He leaned forward on his thrown his chin resting on his hand. Perhaps God really was dead. The thought filled him with an uneasy feeling. He had always been a loyal son. Loyal to the end and he was ultimately punished for his loyalty. He never wanted God dead, his motivations were more complicated than that. However lately he found those motivations tended to center around one Sam Winchester. He missed him. Yes he was just one deeply flawed human, but for a brief moment in time he had belonged to him. Mind, body and soul. That kind of ownership left a mark on both parties. He’d grown accustomed to his face as it were. He found it difficult to carry on without him. Inhabiting a vessel left him vulnerable thus being the reason he was forced to leave him, but there was something powerful about that as well. They didn’t call it possession for nothing. It was an all-consuming feeling. Sam had loved it as much as he hated it. Lucifer knew it must be true. He just had to make him see it.

Lucifer sighed irritated at the direction of his thoughts. He had more important matters to take care of than Sam’s inevitable yes. Even more pressing than Crowley’s little rebellion. He would deal with the demons eventually, until now heaven had kept him pretty busy. While he held no real ill will towards his brothers he could not brook disobedience. In that regard he was like their ever so distant father. The irony was not lost on him. Those who defied him were subjugated. Killing Michael brought him no joy. He still mourned his loss deeply. Raphael also refused to join him and forced his hand. Smiting his brothers tore a hole inside his heart that he could not bear, which was why when his youngest brother also defied him he could not bring himself to deliver the killing blow.

Gabriel was his prisoner, but he feared that the angel was not as powerless as he believed. Someone had altered the timeline. He could see the ripples as they formed. Things were shifting. While he could not see what had changed, he knew the natural order would attempt to restore itself. It behooved him as ruler to see that God’s perfect creation was not destroyed. Also that the changes were not an assault against him. He and his brother were the only ones left strong enough to alter the timeline. It was time that he paid his brother a visit.

The cages in heaven were a touch more glamorous looking than the ones in hell, but they were prisons just the same. The white walled cells typically were windowless but Lucifer shifted the scene so that he could see his brother through what looked like iron bars. There was still no escape but now they could discourse.

“Hello Brother.” Lucifer called out seeing his brothers sitting on the narrow wooden bench chains about his wrists. He didn’t look capable of altering the timeline from there but he could not be sure. Gabriel looked up at his words but his face immediately twisted into one of distain. “Hey bro, long time no see. Get tired of hearing yourself talk yet?”

“I need to know how you did it Gabriel.” He began calmly. He could be magnanimous he would forgive his brother his transgressions if they could only be honest with each other. He could repair the timeline and there would be no need for escalation.

He sobered. “Lucifer, you're my brother. And I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks.”

Gabriel shot back. “What did you just say to me? Lucifer growled his repressed rage simmering below the surface. His flaw had always been his anger. It had always caused him to lash out. His rage at his brother’s betray had led to his fall. “Look at yourself!” He shouted forlornly “Look at what you’ve done to the Earth. To heaven. Boo hoo! Daddy was mean to me, so I'm gonna smash up all his toys.” “Watch your tone.” He ordered he didn’t want to kill his last brother but he would. Gabriel sneered at him. “Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Trying to get his attention. Time to grow up.” “You disloyal…” “Oh, I'm loyal. To them!” “So you're willing to die, for a pile of cockroaches.” He asked his heart breaking. He had never understood his brother’s obsession with them. Then again he couldn’t explain his obsession with Sam Winchester either, but that was beyond the point. “Why?” he asked desperately wanting to hear the reason. All these eons later his brothers still chose humanity with all their flaws over their own kind.  


“Because Dad was right. They are better than us.” Gabriel continued. He finally said it. His anger boiled over “They are broken. Flawed! Abortions.” He shouted. God was wrong in creating them. As blasphemous as that was it was true.

“You know why God cast me down? Because I loved Him. More than anything. And then, God created... The little... hairless apes. And then He asked all of us to bow down before them—to love _them_ more than Him. And I said, ‘ _Father, I can't.’_ I said, ‘ _These human beings are flawed, murderous._ ’ for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell. My own brother betrayed me for them and here it is happening again.” “Damn right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. And you should have seen the Spearmint Rhino! I'm not on your side, I'm on theirs you might as well kill me already, you won’t change my mind.

Lufcifer ignored him.

“Did the punishment fit the crime? Especially, when I was right? Look at what six billion of them did to the earth before me. And how many of them blamed me for it?"

“You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?!?” Gabriel asked. “No one gives us the right. We take it.” Lucifer continued firmly he tried to reign in his anger.

“Are you any happier now than you were in hell?” He demanded. Taken aback Lucifer shook his head “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven...” he replied “Yeah I didn’t think so, for all your talk you’re just as miserable as the rest of us.”

“Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven, and I rule them both.” He continued resolutely He sighed heavily why wouldn’t Gabriel just admit it? Lucifer frowned “Brother, don't make me do this.” “No one makes us do anything.” He whispered.

Lucifer turned away from the cage not wanting to see his brother’s judgment.

“I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel. Amateur hocus pocus. You learned all your tricks from me, little brother, but altering the timeline will destroy us all, and what’s left of your precious humanity.

Gabriel frowned “I didn’t alter the timeline.” He replied his face gathered in confusion.

He wasn’t sure if he could believe him, but his confusion seemed genuine. His defiance words only. Which gave birth to a troubling thought. If he didn’t alter the reality from this end it meant someone changed the outcome to create this reality. His rule, his grip over heaven and the earth it was tenuous. He needed to discover what transpired, but first he needed his vessel to come to heal.

He turned away. He would leave his brother to his thoughts of betrayal.

“Solitude sometimes is best society.” He informed him as he shifted to prison leaving his brother in darkness.

***

When Dean had asked the question he hadn’t expected and immediate answer, but he also hadn’t expected the strange confused look on Castiel’s face. Oh lord the man didn’t even have sexual fantasies, the poor repressed bastard. A cocky smile slid across his face. “Or if you’re in the mood we can reenact a few of mine.” He whispered his voice sultry. He watched the other man swallow quickly his Adams apple bobbing as his eyes widened, Dean wanted to eat him up in that moment. His virgin kink was kicking in pretty hard right then. Castiel moistened his lips with his tongue nervously he was out of his depth. He knew it, but he would do his best to maintain control of the situation.

“I’ve never pictured anything specific.” He continued his voice was oddly hushed. He wasn’t sure why he had aimed for a banal tone. Dean was watching him with a hungry expression again. “Go on.” Dean prompted.

“I would imagine. A hand or a mouth touching me.” He replied quietly.

“It was vague, it could have been anyone.” He added quickly as a defense perhaps?

“But what if it wasn’t.” Dean asked he was leaning against the pool table he hadn’t moved towards him. He stayed still waiting for him to continue but heat seemed to sizzle his skin.

“What if you pictured a specific person?” the image leapt to his mind unbidden. Dean’s hand on his cock. His lips wrapped around the head as his hand worked the shaft. The image went straight to his balls tightening them. He knew he was growing hard.

He felt the heat bloom in his cheeks and watch a feral smile cross Dean’s face. As if he knew what he was picturing. His words confirmed that he did.

“I’m good at it too.” He replied “Giving head.” Castiel could feel his face heat up. He imagined that Dean wasn’t exaggerating.

“I told you. Your turn.” Castiel insisted.

Dean shoved himself off the table

“Ok, I picture myself bending you over the pool table here and fucking you till you scream for me. My cock buried deep in your ass as I stroke you till you cum for me.

Castiel gasped a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Dean just smirked. He was fully hard now. The image that Dean had vividly illustrated in his mind.

“I meant the apocalypse.” Castiel replied his voice shaking.

Dean stepped closer. “Did you?” he asked his voice was thick. He wanted him, but he relented continuing.

“It started when I went to hell.” He replied.

Castiel frowned he was going to get whiplash from the back and forth.

“And?”

“Well I guess you could say the plan stated long before that but that was the first domino to fall.”

“Then what?”

“Do you ever picture yourself sucking someone else off?” Dean asked abruptly.

An image of himself on his knees in front of Dean flashed before his eyes. He hadn’t been fully able to see him up close when Dean had been having sex in the library, but he could imagine him naked before him. He would lap on his cock so that he could know how he tasted.

“No.” he lied trying to ignore his body’s desires.

“Pity, I think you would look good on your knees.”

He realized his heart was beating loudly in his ears. His skin was begging to be touched.

“Lucifer rose, May 14th, 2009” the apocalypse really kicked off the next year when my brother said yes to Lucifer.”

Castiel frowned. He didn’t really know what any of that meant, but he had to admit most of the blood in his body was not rushing in the direction of his brain.

“The Croats,” he paused. “People infected with the croatoan virus, this demonic virus that makes people act like rabid dogs. They took over the earth. Killed off most of the people, there are still a few people out there but for the most part we’ve won.”

Castiel wracked his brain for a follow up question. Anything that would be useful but his brain wouldn’t respond it was clouded with wicked images and urges. Dean was watching him closely.

“Do you think a blow job is too much interaction for the universe to handle?” he wondered seemingly to himself.” Castiel frowned not sure what he was talking about.

“Yeah you’re right.”   “Too much to hope for got it.” Dean continued having his conversation without him.

“If you don’t have any more questions I’m going to go get off and hope that helps.” Dean muttered.

Castiel knew his mouth was wide open as he pictured it.

Dean turned back towards him. “I don’t suppose you’d want to watch?”

Castiel froze. He very much did want to see that. He wanted to see him and touch him. Indulge in his curiosity, but something held him back.

The moment stretched between them. Growing heavy and heavier fraught with sexual tension.

“Your loss.” Dean finally replied walking from the room.

Once he stepped out of the room Castiel released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

***

Lucifer watched as Sam paced the confines of his small room. He couldn’t see him. He didn’t always need to be seen to influence someone. Sam was graceful for someone so long limbed. He quickly strode from one end of the room to the other. He wore a hunter green long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. His hair had grown long in the time that he had been away. Long enough that he had tucked strands behind his head in a small tail. It was becoming on him. Humans as a whole disgusted him and yet Sam was different. His flaws felt familiar. He was able to overlook what he was. He wanted to soothe him. Perhaps it was his strength, he remembered their deal, a wrestling match for control over Sam’s body. For a brief moment there he had almost won. Sam was strong and he respected that it reminded him of himself, narcissistic as it sounded. The symmetry between them and their lives had always intrigued him. They were two halves of the same coin. Destined to meet. They were both loyal Sons, weary of relentlessly obeying an unknowable father’s orders overshadowed by older brothers. Thoughts of Michael brought him a small tinge of regret, but it was momentary. Killing Michael was necessary. Possessing Sam was necessary then and it was necessary again. While he wanted to give Sam his space, there wasn’t time.

He wasn’t physically there with Sam, but he was able to project himself to Sam’s mind.

“You are a hard human to find,” he called out leaning against the dresser he watched Sam whip towards him. His eyes where wide, his breathing swiftly becoming erratic. Lucifer wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or fear, he found both to be pleasant options.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me where you are?” He asked sweetly. While being physically with him wasn’t a requirement to possession it would be easier to convince him in person. Sam didn’t reply. He turned his back on him. He was ignoring him. Lucifer felt a heavy frown mar his features. A shaft of displeasure went through him. Sam was his, he wasn’t allowed to ignore him.

“I've been waiting for you for a long long time.” He snarled stepping up to him. It had been three years since he was forced to abandon Sam, and an eternity of waiting in the cage before that. He would not allow him to ignore him.

Lucifer grabbed his shoulder roughly his fingers digging in to the point of pain forcing him to face him. While he appeared to be physically bigger than Nick’s vessel. Lucifer was more powerful. He could physically force him, but he never needed physical coercion. He still used it occasionally because he enjoyed it.

Sam shuddered his touch making it difficult to fight him. He could feel Lucifer’s influence on the edges of his brain picking away slowly at his resistance until he wanted what Lucifer wanted. That was Lucifer’s power it wasn’t mind control, not in the same was as Andy Gallagher. It was more insidious than that. Subtler. It started as a tiny spark of want, until it blossomed as an all-consuming need. He had to do what Lucifer craved, he wanted to do it, was happy to.

Sometimes he didn’t even need to use words to control him, and yet when he did voice his commands they could not be disobeyed.

“Come on, Sam. You have to admit, it felt good right? The exhilaration.” He did feel it, an electric thrill raced through him, but he could never tell if it was real. If he truly enjoyed Lucifer’s touch or if Lucifer made him enjoy it. He wanted to hate it. He wanted to be repulsed but he wasn’t.

Lucifer pulled him close and begun kissing his neck. He could feel the moist heat of his mouth on his neck even though he knew it wasn’t real.

“And you know why that is?” he asked. Sam waited with baited breath. His body responding against his will. His pulse began to race he could feel it flutter in his chest. Internally he cringed. He did not want to be manipulated by him again and yet at the same time the craving was engulfing his every desire.

“Because we are two halves made whole.” He whispered sensuously pressing their bodies together his forked tongue slid along the shell of his ear. “M.F.E.O. Literally." He whispered enunciating each letter slowly carefully swirling his tongue along his ear.

“No.” Sam insisted pulling away. Panic edging in as he realized he wanted to let Lucifer in. He wouldn’t succumb not again. The terrible things Lucifer made him do… he couldn’t live like that not again. It warped his mind. In the moment Lucifer made him want it, but afterwards when he left him alone he would come back into his own mind and guilt and disgust would set in as he realized how the Devil used him. “ I don’t want this.”

He felt violated and manipulated. He felt guilty, for wanting it even if it wasn’t his fault. It tore away at his sanity. He wrapped his arms around himself trying to ignore him. He could feel the stinging cuts along the upper portions of his arm. He used to pain to try to push away the need to do as Lucifer wanted. The cutting had always helped him focus, anchor his mind on how he truly felt.

Lucifer smiled. He wasn’t perturbed by Sam’s rejection. He always refused him at first, fighting his own feelings. He always had trouble allowing himself to feel pleasure. Lucifer blamed it on Sam’s father keeping the man repressed. He never belonged in that family. They were foster care, at best. Sam needed to know the truth. He was his real family.

"I’ve been inside your grapefruit Sam You can't lie to me.” He insisted tapping his temple lightly. Sam backed away. His touch always intensified his control.

“I remember it all. How hot you always felt. The way you leaned into me, begged me for more. The way you screamed out in pleasure chanting my name. As I slammed into you.”

Sam shuddered he wasn’t sure if it was out of fear, revulsion or arousal. Lucifer’s presence always twisted how he felt.

Lucifer found himself losing focus. He knew that he was here to convince Sam to say yes, however his mind kept shifting the questions. He wanted him. He wanted to make Sam his bitch again in every sense of the term. He had used him, in the past at first because it was just another way to torment him. Then because he enjoyed it, himself. Sam liked it too. Lucifer knew it. He enjoyed being forced into situations that made him uncomfortable. He had to.

Lucifer shifted his appearance, so that he looked like Dean. That got the reaction he wanted.

Sam’s eyes widened, with dread. He backed slowly away from him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

“No, please Lucifer.” He insisted raising his hands towards him.

“That's what I'm talking about, Sam – real interaction again.” he continued his voice still sounding like Nick.

“I miss that. The rapier wit, the wittier rape. Come on. It’ll be good.” He insisted stepping forward.

Sam was whispering beneath his breath. “I don’t want this.” He kept rapidly repeating the phrase a litany, but his tone was fatalistic he knew he couldn’t resist. Lucifer stepped forwards and pulled his head down for a kiss. Ignoring Sam’s whispered words.

His body responded regardless of what he swore. His hands remained passively at his side. Yet other parts of his body responded, Lucifer wanted him.

Lucifer ran his hand up and down Sam’s body. He gasped against his will. He wanted this Lucifer made him crave it.

Lucifer pushed him down on the bed, his back hit the mattress his rising sense of panic increased. He needed to fight this he needed to stop him. He didn’t what this. He didn’t want this. He said the words aloud over and over and yet every time he spoke they sounded less and less like the truth.

“Yeah, look at that.” Lucifer insisted gesturing to the visible bulge at his fly.

“Something's definitely different now, isn't it? You let me in. You wanted me, partner. So you think you can use your little tricks to banish me again...”

Lucifer straddled him about the waist. Sam groaned low in his throat as the weight of his body settled over him as he begun to slowly grind against his aching cock.

“...like that?” Lucifer crooned. Sam vehemently shook his head. He had to stop Lucifer now. “No?” Lucifer murmured questioningly “I don’t believe you. I've got you, bunk buddy.” He insisted running his hand along the front of his pants all along the length of his cock.

Lucifer wasn’t physically aroused but currently he didn’t even have a physical body he wasn’t physically there it was all in Sam’s mind. He could not consummate his desires, but he could make Sam.

The door slammed shut and Sam knew it was over. He wriggled beneath Lucifer trying to toss him off but it only served for further rub him against him.

Lucifer leaned in, he looked just like Dean. Somehow he even smelled like Dean’s cologne. Sam knew it was because it was all in his head. It wasn’t real. Lucifer wasn’t really there. He wasn’t Dean.

“Tell me you want it.” Lucifer insisted his words coming out in Dean’s gravely voice, slowly unzipping Sam’s jeans.

“nnnooo” he ground out as Lucifer begun to slowly stroke his cock his grip was firm his movements fast as he quickly begun to pump his hand up and down. This was not meant to be drawn out. He was intent on quickly sending him over the edge. He was proving a point.

Sam could feel the pleasure build and build, he stopped denying that he wanted it. Inside his mind still rebelled but he was beyond denying his body wanted this. He couldn’t fight him. Lucifer was stronger than him.

“Sam we both know you’re lying, now be a good boy.” He whispered leaning forward again biting his nipples through his shirt. Sam hissed in pleasure pain screwing his eyes shut, maybe at least he didn’t have to watch.

“Keep your eyes open.” The devil ordered. Sam couldn’t do anything but obey.

He looked up into Lucifer’s eyes. Dean’s green eyes. Dean’s mouth.

“Tell me you want It.” he ordered for the last time.

“Yes.” Sam whispered as bliss rushed through him as he came.

Lucifer stepped away Dean melting back into Nick.

Sam tried to push away the shame that immediately engulfed him he rolled over on his side culling up into a fetal positon drawing his knees up to his chest, his fist clenching the blankets.

“Go away!” Sam shouted but the words sounded pitiful even to his ears.

“I will never lie to you. I'll never trick you. But you will let me in.” Lucifer swore and Sam knew he believed it. He didn’t understand his power over people he didn’t see it as manipulations as force. He was delusional. Likely he was insane. “You will say yes to me. You will always say yes to me." "Why me?" Sam demanded his vision misting over with unshed tears. He once hoped that Lucifer was done with him when he left him, but he should have known that he got off easy. That he deserved all the wretched things Lucifer did to him after they destroyed the world. "Because it had to be you. It always had to be you." It was the same thing he had always said to him. Years later the words still felt like a condemnation, like he was born to be punished. Every bit of good he ever tried to accomplish would still never wash away this destiny. As if hearing his thoughts Lucifer leaned over his again and whispered into his ear.

“Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up…here. I win. So, I win.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to take a shower now that last bit made me feel dirty in a bad way, but I wanted to show that Lucifer genuinely thinks Sam wants him. He is a delusional sexual sadist and a rapist partially influenced by Killgrave in Jessica Jones on Netflix if you haven't watched it. it is really good. mine is not as good of a portrayal.
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter so I know how to proceed.


	9. Such a lonely day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off sorry it took me so long to post January was a super busy time for me at work and then my brother was in a car accident and I had to help take care of him. He is fine now. Secondly this chapter didn't really go as I planned I meant for Crowley's story to just take up part of this chapter, but it expanded to the entire chapter so I promise to add another chapter soon. hopefully this turn wont be too much for people

Crowley’s brain was buzzing with the human blood. He could feel it coursing through him. The emotions they felt so unbearably sharp. A keening wail in the back of his brain demanding that he listen to its siren song. Longing, loneliness, a desire to be loved. He felt high the headiness of the emotions compared to the emptiness of his demonic soul. It bordered on sensory overload which was why he was so surprised when he entered his chamber and saw the little angel sitting in a chair in the center of the room.

He had forgotten that he had ordered little Alfie cleaned up and sent to his room. He wasn’t sure for what purpose. Even as he’d asked the idea had seemed ludicrous. While he was attracted to the little angel that ship had sailed a long time ago. He enjoyed mind games as much as the next demon but he wasn’t a rapist. A sexual sadist perhaps. He had on more than one occasion relished the erotic value of inflicting pain, but rape had little appeal when he was more than capable of getting what he wanted on his own. He looked over at the little angel. Torturing someone for years however wasn’t conducive for desire. Still when he saw the boy looking up at him his grey eyes were soft and hopeful a strange vulnerable feeling overwhelmed him. The sad sap still thought that there was good in him. He wanted to prove him wrong he wanted to laugh and taunt the boy beat him senseless and prove to him that there was no such thing as a redeemable demon. He did none of those things. There was anxiety on his face as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His hands were gripping the seat of the chair tightly the boys knuckles were white with tension.

Crowley enjoyed luxury once he was in the position to afford it, he intended to keep it. His room was decorated in an array of rich dark masculine colors, deep cholates, midnight blacks, blood reds, but he added luxurious touches. He had a sensual side. While he liked causing pain, but he certainly enjoyed pleasure. The feel of black silk sheets. Leather cuffs. He had a custom made grand king bed and black frame where he could affix cuffs when needed. Perhaps it was a bit cliché but he was the king of hell and at least at one time he enjoyed playing the part. The angel’s eyes traveled to the cuffs at the head of the bed following his own gaze. Crowley simply smirked. Let the angel think what he will, he had no intention of hurting him anymore at least not tonight. Perhaps later the human blood would be gone from his system, he could torture to his heart’s content, yet he doubted it. He had grown weary with all the trappings of king of hell. In the past he had a study and kept his work and leisure separate, lately however he had a desk moved into the far corner of the room so that he could do business in private. that was what he intended.

He slowly approached the boy. He wore a navy blue long sleeved shirt and jeans, Crowley was grateful for the sleeves because it covered the once flawless skin that he had marred with a heated blade. Guilt was a new emotion for him. Even in his human life he had rarely been burdened with it.

“Is this a new form of torture? Samandriel asked hesitantly

Crowley wanted to say yes that he had somehow devised a way to literally kill someone with kindness and was testing it out, but the words were lodged in his throat.

“No” he replied. Rather than elaborate he simply stepped past the boy into the room. He went to the side bar. He would just ignore him go about his business.

“Did you want a drink?” he wondered quietly. That lasted long. He glanced over to see the angel looking at him strangely.

“No, I suppose not.” He continued answering his own question. He poured himself a glass of scotch ignoring the angel. The burn of alcohol was always soothing to him. Especially after he shot up with human blood. It made sense in a way. Humans drank to kill their inner demons, he had more than his fair share.

“Mother’s milk.” He murmured after a drink. “Or at least my mothers.” He quipped.

The angel didn’t respond just continued to stare at him. He sighed, he wasn’t sure why he bothered with this charade. Perhaps it was because he was lonely. He had hell and no one to share it with.

He pushed away the very un-demonic thought. Sharing power with someone was a weakness. He learned at a very young age it was those closest to you that betrayed you, after all his own mother sold him for three pigs and left him when he was eight years old. Love was a weakness. He had loved his mother once, but she never loved him, in fact she likely hated him. Life had been difficult after that. He had to fight hard for every base need. Even harder for respect. It likely didn’t help that in life he became an abusive alcoholic two-bit tailor. His mother spewed venom and hate towards him and he in turn did the same to his own son. He beat and starved Gavin repeatedly during his childhood, worked him harder than their own horse, and refused to let him attend school. He couldn’t even say that it was tough love, he abused the boy because his mother abused him and in some twisted way he wanted to make the boy as damaged as he was. Love was a vulnerability he didn’t need. While he loved Gavin he never treated him as if he did he hardened the boy till he despised him. His mother had claimed on multiple occasions that he was unlovable. He was never sure if it was just an innate quality about him or something forced upon him.

“We shared a foxhole of sorts you and I” Crowley continued the angel looked up at him obviously puzzled.

"Live with a man forty years.” He begun pacing before him. “Share his house, his meals, speak on every subject.” He paused thoughtfully after each point before turning to meet Samandriel’s eyes.

“Then tie him up and hold him over the volcano's edge, and on that day, you will _finally_ meet the man." Crowley continued.

“What are you saying?” he asked his voice cautious and wary.

Crowely shrugged. What was he saying? That he felt like he knew the angel intimately because he tortured him. It was a strange thought, yet one that felt accurate. He did know the angel. As well as he knew anyone, more really. In retrospect the angel likely knew him better than anyone else as well. He had pushed the man to the breaking point you can’t do that without learning something about them, or revealing something about yourself.

“Did you know your father?” Crowley asked leaning casually against the bed. Samandriel still clutched the seat of the chair his arms resting between his legs as he leaned forward to better hear his soft words.

His expressive face pulled together in a frown. He was trying to decide if this was another way to question him. If he would be revealing anything by admitting the truth. He came to the same conclusion Crowley had long ago. He had already told him everything he knew. Crowley kept torturing him almost out of habit rather than necessity. Samandriel was not a high level angel. He was an errand boy. He wasn’t privy to the secrets.

“No,” he replied quietly staring at his feet.

“Neither did I, but since he had the poor sense to sleep with my harpy of a mother I doubt I would have liked him much.” The angel was still watching him curiously but he was no longer gripping the bottom of the chair like he thought it was going to be ripped away from him at any moment.

“What about your brother’s?” he wondered drinking again leaning back on the bed.

“I met Michael once.” He replied sheepishly. Crowley met the angel’s eyes. There was a certain pride there and some kind of yearning. He had never really thought about angels having sex, with each other. Technically they were only brothers in as much as humanity was a brotherhood. The archangels were siblings but the rest were not. He glanced down and noticed that his glass was empty and teleported to the side table to refill it. As he did there was a loud crash he turned indolently back to see that Samandriel had leapt from his chair and was backing away from the bed his back facing him unknowingly walking towards him.

“Ahem” Samandriel whirled towards him his eyes blown wide with fear. His hands fisted uselessly at his sides.

He was breathing hard. His jaw clenched.

“A bit jumpy aren’t we?” Crowley continued refilling his glass. He held his hands up one cradled around his scotch as he very purposefully walked the length of the room back towards the bed. Samandriel frozen in place tracked his movement with his eyes and body turning slightly with his shoulders his feet remaining in place.

His breathing was beginning to even out. He remained standing.

“Take a seat.” Crowley gestured he didn’t move. Crowley sighed heavily. “This is going to keep happening?” Samandriel said nothing but it was obvious he wasn’t relaxed.

Crowley stood. “Let’s make a deal.” How many times had he said those words? Numerous times Countless really. How many times had he said them without a greater goal in mind? He couldn’t think of one. Still the words came out without thought. “I won’t hurt you for twenty four hours.” He watched the angel’s eyes widened “Unless I am defending myself.” He added. “In exchange for what?” Samandriel he asked. Crowley sighed again “Nothing, this one free of charge.”

The angel frowned perplexed. “Why?” He asked.

Why indeed? He thought to himself. Nothing was forthcoming.

“Why not?” he replied. Perhaps he was becoming drunk? He did feel like he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

“Why not?” Samandriel echoed his words hollow sounding and wooden

Crowley stood feeling confident “Yes why not? What have I got to lose? You would still be my prisoner, there isn’t anything you can do about that.” He continued. A blood spell. He had locked Samandriel into his vessel, and done a blood spell to bind the human body here. The human Alfie was long dead.

It was obvious he didn’t trust him and really why should he?

Crowley was about to give up go find something else diverting when the angel replied.

“Yes.”

Crowley grinned stepping up to him. He could tell that the angel wanted to back away but stood his ground.

“You know how demons seal a deal?” the boy jutted his chin up at him defiantly implying that yes his knew but it made no difference.

Crowley leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against Samandriel’s he was stiff holding stock still. Crowley had no intention of pressing the kiss, this was simply about letting the angel relax. Why he wanted him to relax he couldn’t explain, he wanted to talk to him. He tilted his head back slightly and Crowley pushed himself not to peruse him, he was just drunk he told himself.

The power of the deal filled him if he broke his deal he would lose that power. It was the magic of the deal. Temporary increased power, unless the deal was broken.

The angel stepped back quietly. Before picking up the chair and sitting down.

“Now can we be…” he been intent on saying civil when his words were interrupted by what likely amounted to a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet of enraged angel. He screamed inarticulately as he charged. The boy tackled him knocking the glass of Craig from his hand, it shattered as it hit the floor. He fell on to the bed. Surprised and slightly impressed the angel punched him straight in the jaw as he pinned him to the bed with the slight weight of his body. He continued punching him about the head and torso screaming as he did so years of repressed anger coming through. After a moment breathing heavily he stopped. He was visibly shaking from where he straddled his waist. He was waiting to see if Crowley would retaliate. Crowley grabbed the angel about the shoulders shoving him gently aside so that he fell besides him on the king sized bed. The angel hit the bed flat on his back the air knocked out of him but otherwise unharmed. They both lay the width of the bed versus the length. He could hear the heavy breathing as Samandriel gasped for air.

Crowley swiped at his bloodied nose and lip with the back of his hand tasting the blood in his mouth. Samandriel lay stock still beside him not looking at him, staring at the ceiling.

“Was that really necessary?” he demand irately “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, can we be civil?”

He didn’t respond immediately. So Crowley continued.

“You own me a drink by the way, it’s over 300 dollars a bottle.”

Suddenly he realized that the angel was laughing. A strange bitter world weary laugh that didn’t quite fit what he knew of the man.

His dark chuckling continued and Crowley rolled on his side to get a better view of him. He lay hand over his face as his expression was drawn up in a grimace of a smile as his chest convulsed with forced laughter. After a moment he turned towards him.

“What is wrong with you?” The words effected him stronger than the angel’s attack.

He sat up stiffly. A great many things if he was being honest, and he had no intention of doing that. The hollow emptiness of his human heart was driving him insane. It yearned to be accepted to be loved, he was a demon not a human and yet he couldn’t deny the building need inside himself.

“The angels never came for you.” He said quietly staring down at the shattered remains of his scotch. Perhaps if he lashed out he wouldn’t feel so empty.

Samandriel stopped laughing by the silence Crowley knew his missile had hit its mark.

“Not one of them tried to save you, why do you think that is?”

He could feel the tension condense in the room.

“I…” he began obviously forcing the words out. His voice sounded thick.

“Because you are expendable.” Crowley continued viciously “a pawn, a peon, a patsy, god’s messenger’s messenger boy.”

He chanced a glance at the angel. The stiff resignation on his face was telling.

Crowley took pity on him instantly regretting the venom he had unleashed on him just moments before. He stood and crossed the room towards his liquor cabinet. He grabbed two glasses and the bottle He sat up and tracked his movements apparently he still wasn’t sure about his intentions, but then again neither was he.

“You’re right.” He whispered avoiding eye contact.

Samandriel frowned as Crowley pressed the glass into his hand. Did the boy ever smile? He had a nice mouth. He should have reasons to smile.

“I have never been an asset to heaven.”

Crowely scoffed rudely.

“What is the old saying? It is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven? Why would you want to serve anyone? You serve someone you lose your needs.” He could tell he was beginning to ramble. His head was spinning, the human blood was fully in his system now, and he was high with it. In moments like these he usually preferred to be alone and allow himself to vent these emotions in peace, usually with a touching film; however he didn’t want to be alone.

“If you ask me your brothers are wrong about you.” The words fell out against his control

Samandriel looked up him a confused expression across his expressive eyes.

“You are more than a throwaway angel”

His brows scrunched together confused. Crowley waved him off and gulped down his scotch. He was starting to sound like Dean Winchester. The man was a confusing mix on human sensibilities and demonic urges.

There was silence for several moments as they sipped scotch together.

“Do you know what Michael said to me?” Samandriel finally asked quietly as he sipped the scotch surprisingly he did not react to the alcohol’s burn.

“I was in awe of him.” he continued musingly “I offered him everything I was.”

Crowley couldn’t tell if that was a sexual reference or not since angel’s tended to speak with poetry, as if to prove his point Samandriel continued.

“He said no. I am thy fellow servant, and of thy brethren: worship God.” As he spoke he downed the scotch. Crowley poured him another.

“What a jerk” he muttered mostly to himself but Samandriel turned towards him. He must be drunker than he thought because he was misinterpreting the look that he was giving him as something akin to comradery

Crowley shrugged trying to think of the best way to defend himself.

“I’d deny it if you ever quote me but you did good.” He finally admitted. As he poured two glasses.

“What?” he asked

“Taking me by surprise like that.”

“Thank you?” the angel continued unsurely sipping the scotch. A thought begun to infect him. One he knew was pure human insanity, but still it festered in his mind unable to escape until he asked.

“Would it be possible,” Crowley began paused and looked away knowing this foolishness would only betray his human insecurities “...I'd like...to ask you a-a favor, Sam.” He continued

Samandriel frowned. There it was again that frown. The angel was perpetually solemn and he knew part of it was his fault.

“Given our history...it raises the question... Where do I start...to even look for your forgiveness?”

“What?” he asked standing up quickly. He was obviously distressed.

“I mean... Don't we all -- you, me -- we deserve to be loved.” He continued unsurely he was losing control of his artificial human emotions. The combination of the human blood and the alcohol was leading his brain into a spiral of self-doubt and desire for acceptance it was pathetic.

“I deserve to be loved!” he shouted before continuing hesitantly “I just want to be loved.”

He expected scorn, if someone showed such weakness before him he would have gone for the kill. Ripped out their throat with his teeth, perhaps that was what he want someone to end his suffering. Still he was surprised that wasn’t what he received.

“God is forgiving,” the angel began. His tone soft and merciful.

“I am not.” He finished. Crowley looked away from him but just because he would not meet his eyes did not mean he could un-hear his words.

“You tortured me. Perhaps what you say is true and you do deserve to be loved, but you do not deserve my forgiveness.”

Crowley nodded he knew he was worthless, had been told as such from birth to the point that he had fought his entire life until he had worth, he was the bloody king of hell and still people constantly found him wanting.

“, but you can earn it.” The words gave him pause. He wasn’t sure what game the angel played surely there wasn’t something he could do to undo the harm.

“I won’t let you go…I can’t afford to.” He admitted. His position as king wasn’t as recognizable as it once was. His iron grip was becoming tenuous, with his forces split defending hell on the chance of Lucifer’s return and fighting Abaddon he could not risk looking weak.

“Humble yourself; it’s your first step toward being forgiven” the angel continued.

“I am the king of hell, humble is not in my nature.” He continued stepping away from the boy.

“If you want forgiveness you need to understand the amount of pain you have caused, and accept responsibility for it.”

“This is asinine, you aren’t going to forgive me and I will not be made a fool of.”

The angel turned away from him before pulling his shirt off.

His ribs were bruised, there were several healed cuts and burns across his body, the ones he just inflicted were still raw and red. Crowley had to admit he found some of it appealing. He was a sadist that part was true. The consent was what had been lacking between a scene and torture, still he wasn’t delusional he knew what he did to Samandriel and that it wasn’t the same thing. He wasn’t Lucifer, While he dabbled with others in the past Lilith, Naomi, Brady, he had never found someone with parallel desires as himself. Part of him hoped that someday he might, but he knew it was a stretch.

“You carved into me looking for my brothers, knowing that they didn’t give a damn about me.” The angel’s intensity and vulgarity surprised him, then again it seemed that he was full of surprises. “They are gone, and you have all you want from me I will likely die soon and by your hand and yet now you ask for my forgiveness? What does that say about you?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted. Awash with strange emotions “But they are not as gone as I implied.” he confessed. Part of him wanted to sooth the angel tell him that while they were few in numbers his brothers existed, some closer than he thought.

Crowley knew this was a misstep on his part but he still couldn’t deny the surge of something ineffable that filled him.

“Lucifer.” Samandriel whispered with dread. He had told the boy that much. Crowley nodded somehow dedicated to this course of action.

“And Michael.”

The angel straightened to the point where he thought he might splinter into a thousand little stiff pieces.

“Michael is alive?”

“Only just.” Crowley replied dispassionately.

“How is that possible?” he gasped astounded.

“We made a deal.” Crowley admitted. “Lucifer had his rightful vessel while Michael did not,”

“And rather than give him Dean Winchester you what kept him alive?” he asked aghast.

“Don’t be so crass, I couldn’t give him Dean even if I wanted to company policy and all we don’t exactly let souls out of hell. And since you lot can’t possess a corpse without permission my hands were tied there. No, I found him on the battlefield, and offered him a deal.”

“Take me to him.” he ordered. It was actually rather cute, and if Crowley had been another mood he might have had a different reaction, but he couldn’t allow disrespect.

Crowley walked towards him. “Just because I can’t hurt you currently doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that. Twenty-four hours is a blip in the amount of time we have together pet and I have a very long memory.”

“Take me to him.” he asked again this time a small quaver in his voice.

“You won’t like it.” Crowley admitted.

The boy’s resolve didn’t waver, and Crowley was feeling generous.

***

Samandriel looked over at his brother and his heart ached. He looked small in his current vessel. He lay in a hospital bed in what looked like the remnants of a study. Bookshelves filled to the brim with a variety of books surrounded the room. The head of the bed rested again the far wall where a desk would have stood. The demon stood beside him, he was feeling ambivalent towards him. He was sure this change over him was temporary, but at the moment he intended to take advantage. He knew what he was a warped human soul, and while he tried to remember than no one is beyond saving he had never seen any good in the man till now.

There were several machines next to the bed, the soft whir of one of them was what allowed Michael’s physical body to breath. The clear plastic tube was attached to his mouth and down his throat inflating and deflating his lungs. Other machines monitored his heartbeat and still others administrated drugs.

“Why hasn’t he healed?” he asked he could see the empty space on one side of his body. He was missing his right leg and arm.

“His grace is depleted.” Crowley replied impassively simply imparting information.

“How do we know he isn’t…?”

“Adam?” Crowley asked as if reading his mind.

“Trust me darling. If this poor bastard was Adam Milligan he would have been dead a long time ago. You should have seen him when I found him. Four years have done a lot to clean up the mess Lucifer made of him.”

Samandriel moved towards Michael with the intention of healing him. The tiny spark of his grace flowing forward.

“You’re wasting your time precious, you are cut off from heaven just as he is. It won’t work.”

Samandriel ignored him and laid a hand along Michael’s bare chest. He ignored the tiny thrill that came from touching him. This was not meant for him this was for Michael and for humanity. His skin was not as warm as he had imagined likely from the lack of circulation. Nothing happened. His arm had been separated at the shoulder, so Samandriel moved his hand there. Still his small bit of grace was not enough to heal him.

“Why is he unconscious?” he asked thinking that maybe the drugs were fogging the recovery of his grace.

“Mostly because he is an archangel and he is in bloody hell, but also he's off his rocker.”

“What?” Samandriel asked perplexed.

“When I made the deal with him I didn’t realize that Lucifer did a number on more than his body.”

“So not only are you saying my brother is damaged physically you are saying he is insane.”

“More like shell shocked, he doesn’t exactly remember what happened or who he is and he tends to get a bit violent because of it.”

“Wake him up.” Samandriel ordered.

“Aren’t you bossy today, under different circumstances seeing you wearing the pants might be sexy but I’m afraid I can’t abide it now.”

“I need to speak to him.” he insisted pleadingly

“No, still means no pet.”

He dropped to his knees his hands clasped together. Something sparked in the demon’s eyes. This position appealed to him.

“While you do look pretty on your knees, I’m assuming your question is the same still and so is my answer.”

“He can fix it, the world, set it right.”

“And what makes you think I want the world changed?”

“Don’t you?” he asked earnestly at least in that respect he knew he was right. Crowley wasn’t happy.

Crowley looked away. Samandriel couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“It will take at least twelve hours for the medication to leave his system.” He informed him softly his tone downhearted.

"Maybe before then I will have come to my senses"


	10. Everybody, everybody, everybody fucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was because I hadn't written any sex scenes in a while it is pretty much pure smut I still managed to squeeze some plot in here at the end. yay me!

The invitation grated on him. Castiel stayed stock still standing exactly where Dean left him because if he moved he knew it would only be to follow Dean. To watch him touch himself. The idea appealed to the basest part of himself. Just standing still alone with his thoughts he was fighting a losing battle against his body as his seemingly ever present… at least around Dean, erection made itself known. At this point he wasn’t denying what he felt. His attraction for Dean was far too raw too all-consuming to be anything false. All his life as much as he fought against this attraction it was still there over and over he had been taught that it was acting on a sin. What he struggled with was the desires of his body and the desires of his mind. They were at war his body wanted to grasp for all that Dean offered him. pleasure freedom, yet his mind knew that pleasure was fleeting and that freedom, free will itself was a gift from god but one with which we could hang ourselves with.

***

Dean was horny. Like masturbate three times in a row and still wanna fuck till your legs are sore horny. It was the mark. He knew that rationally, but try telling that to his dick. He was lying in bed with a giant throbbing erection his pants shoved down around his hips, his shirt tossed somewhere in his effort to shed his clothing so that he could yank on his aching cock. Ribbons of his own cum covered his stomach and chest. “Damn it.” he swore aggravated. It wasn’t enough the mark needed more. He called Brady, but the man was either ducking his calls, an asshole, or both, because he hadn’t called back. It was worse than last time, the need had crept up on him, to the point where the mark was demanding that he either kill, fuck or die. Strangely he didn’t have the urge to kill, he was apathetic at best, what he did want to do was screw, preferably a sexy virgin angel. Or whatever he was. Dean had an idea what might help but he wasn’t sure if the universe was ready for it, or if Cas was. Not to mention that it was a bit unethical, but it was times like these when he remembered he was a demon and fuck ethics. He called Crowley.

It took the demon longer than he expected to answer. “Yes?” he answered his tone was disinterested.

“Well hello to you.” He griped. “What do you want Dean?” he continued on a sigh. “I am preoccupied.”

“Are you high?” he asked annoyed.

“Yes,” he answered surprising him. “And you are dragging down my buzz, so tell me what you want?

Dean laid out the details of his plan, it was a bit crude and definitely flexible. It was actually something that he had considered before, as a means to satisfy the mark. It craved depravity and wickedness, it fed off the basest instincts of humanity, or whatever he was.

“I see.” Crowley continued once he was finished. “I can get you a willing companion, but what is in it for me? When I send you your usual sacrifices I get people I want dead, what are you offering me now?”

Dean paused for a moment

“You could join in” he offered casually

There was thick silence over the line. Dean wasn’t sure which way it would swing.

“Mind if I bring someone?” he finally responded

 

***

Sam lay on the bed wearing only his black boxers he was curled in the fetal positon he had stripped off his cum stained shirt and tossed it aside. Lucifer was still talking to him, he ignored him. He had used too much of his influence over him before. He knew from experience that there was a slight refractory period. If he focused he could push him away he just needed to relax and focus. Slow down his racing heart.

“Sam.” Lucifer whispered. “You need to say yes.” He insisted angrily, but it wasn’t as strong as before. He blew his wad manipulating him. Shame heated his face briefly.

“Fuck off! He shouted through the pillow. For the briefest moment he thought that he obeyed. He was gone. There was a knock at the door. Sam waited he was sure that it was just Lucifer messing with him controlling his perceptions. Still he stood. Forgetting for the moment that his arms were lined with red cut marks.

He opened the door to see his brother shirtless and clearly aroused. A strange flip flop shot though him this had to be Lucifer. Messing with his head. This wasn’t normal, this had to be Lucifer, but after a moment he realized that it was his brother. There was a mark along his forearm that Sam had never seen before, but knew what it was. It was the mark of Cain.

Dean was breathing heavily his chest rising and falling rapidly. His pupils had contracted to the point where he looked high. “I need your help.” He replied. Sam didn’t hesitate.

 

***

Castiel was still standing in the “war room” as Dean called it still standing with the pool cue in hand when Dean Winchester came for him. Naked from the waist up hair mussed from the pillow. A flush along his body. His expressive eyes hungry.

“De…” he had been intending on calling out the man’s name when he quickly closed the distance between them. Pulling his head down for a rough kiss. His hands fisted in his hair at the back of his head. The slide of Dean’s lips on his own surprised him as he melted into the rough kiss. The urges of his body outweighing those of his mind. Their lips moved together as his pulse shot through the roof. His hands were still pressed against Dean’s chest he could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his palms, he slid his arms up and around so that his arms were looped around Dean’s neck pulling him closer. He could feel Dean’s erection against his hip as Dean rocked against him. He heard a small gasp it took him a moment to realize that the sound had come from his own mouth. Dean raked his free hand down his body sending spirals of want through him. He cupped his erection and Castiel gasped again the sound ending in a strangled moan. To have someone else’s hand on his cock. The heat, the sensations, they had him already wanting to cum. somewhere in the background he heard someone call out Dean’s name in a cultured British accent. Dean’s hands were suddenly withdrawn, and he stepped back

“Sorry had to have a taste.” He informed him. A wicked smile on his face, but there was strain there too. He was shaking. At first Castiel had thought that it was a side effect of desire but it seemed to be more than that. There was a strange haggard look to his expression, one he had seen before in addicts the church counseled.

Castiel eyed him curiously his mind taking a second to catch up with the turn of events.

“Sorry about this.” Dean said softly shoving him to the ground he held him with one arm following him to the ground. Where suddenly he felt cold metal about his left wrist. Castiel looked down. A silver cuff was enclosed around his wrist, before he had time to process what was happening Dean clicked the second cuff around the leg of the pool table. He was handcuffed to the pool table. For what purpose he did not know. Fear pooled in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure what had happened or what was going to happen, but suddenly everything seemed uncertain. “But honestly I think you’re gonna like this.” Dean added with the same cocky grin, and salacious wink before running up the metal stairs in the direction of the library.

***

Crowley was still high, he had to be to agree to this proposal. Dean Winchester was dangerous. It was likely that he still had control if he had enough forethought to organize this little party but the mark could take control at any time. Still the thought did appeal to him and with this many people the odds were in his favor as it were. If he was being completely honest he wanted to take his mind off the angel or more aptly angels. Additionally he was always open for an orgy.

Dean entered the library and ran his eyes over Crowley and his guests.

Crowley wore a tailored black suit, with a red tie. Looking erotic and unaffected.

“A bit over dressed?” Dean asked Crowley didn’t reply. Dean’s eyes flicked over to the two chained individuals.

“Did you not understand the concept of willing?” Dean asked eyeing them.

Crowley shrugged gesturing to one of the gift wrapped individuals.

“Oh he is willing. This was his condition.”

The man wore a ridged black leather harness. That crossed in several points across his chest the straps from his shoulders meeting the straps that skimmed across his ribs before dipping down his stomach resting across his rippling abs down to the silver cock ring. Silver metal O rings connect the leather together in the back. Over his face he had a flexible leather masked hood it covered the upper portion of his face just leaving his malleable lips and his 5 o’clock shadowed jaw exposed. His hands were cuffed in front of him. There was little doubt that he found the situation erotic, judging by the size of his throbbing erection. He was circumcised his jutting cock angling back towards his stomach. While the offer was tempting he held himself to a better standard. If he wasn’t going to force Castiel he wasn’t going to force anyone.

“This is something you want?” he asked. The man nodded at first emphatically then seemed to realize that Dean needed more. “Yes.” he replied his voice gravely “What is your safe word.” The man looked at him meeting his eyes through the mask a dark jade green a cocky grin on his face.

“Pie.” He replied with a grin his white teeth a stark contrast to his smooth tanned skin.

“Okkay…” Dean agreed nodding excitedly before turning towards the second woman.

“She looks super not into it.” He insisted gesturing towards the second trussed up individual.

She glowered at him her scowling face and long brown tresses looking vaguely familiar.

“Yes, she has some conditions.” Crowley admitted slowly.

She wore a vinyl shiny black dress, the dress just barely reached her thighs. It snugly fit her shapely hips the smooth material shimmering as she moved, the neckline of the dress could only be described as plunging as the dressed barred her from breast to midriff stopping just short of her navel while still covering her nipples. The sleeveless dress was paired with long over the elbow length gloves and thigh highs of the same wet looking material with black stiletto heels.

Dean looked back to Crowley

“That is how you dress for an orgy.” He commented indicating the two of them.

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly. He knew what he appeal was and it wasn’t base sensuality. Crowley was charming, wicked and cunningly handsome, which was more class than crass. Not to say that it didn’t get his cock hard, just that he could do it fully clothed.

“I’m here for Sam.” she continued.

It hit him them he recognized her from his vision this was the demon that he and Sam were fighting about in the alternate reality. Ruby?

“Whys that?” he asked her.

“Unfinished business.” She replied cryptically. She scowled at Crowley. There was definitely no love lost there.

“I am his prisoner, but I am willing for this,” Dean tried to weigh the thought in his mind. Yeah it wasn’t totally a perfect scenario but it was good enough as far as his cock was concerned.

“Ok what’s your conditions?”

“Only Sam gets to fuck me.” She said firmly meeting his eyes. “I will suck and touch whoever you want, but only Sam gets my pussy or ass.”

Dean shrugged he looked at Crowley who nodded that left at least two people open for him, he was fine with those odds.

“Works for me.”

Dean turned to lead them to the war room, then a thought occurred to him.

“Oh yeah, Cas is gonna watch us that cool… alright.” He finished not bothering to get any replies.

***

“You didn’t say this was going to be an orgy.” Sam insisted grabbing him by the elbow pulling him aside before they reached the landing that surrounded the war room or he supposed now the fuck room. He should probably tell Crowley to throw some pillows down. Sam had pulled on some jeans but his chest was still bare.

“What are you Caligula?” Sam asked uncomfortably “First off I don’t know who that is, secondly I told you to look for orgy music, I thought that was a dead giveaway.”

“Yeah I thought you hit you head and suddenly developed a taste for Industrial metal.”

“Stop confusing me with things I don’t know about,” he snapped irritably. The mark didn’t really help him play nice with others.

“If you’re out just say so.” Dean insisted before snapping his fingers trying to remember what else he had been wanting to say to his brother.

“Oh yeah Crowley brought some chick who wants you.”

“What?”

“Little brunette chick, pouty lips looked like she wanted to punch me.”

Sam just continued to frown confused.

“I think her name is Ruby.”

That got a reaction out of him. His jaw clenched and his eyes blew wide.

“Ruby?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Yeah,” Dean agreed nodding.

“Then I’m in.”

Dean had to admit he was curious about the level of hate he saw on his brother’s face but he stilled wanted to fuck her… not that he blamed him.

He wanted to know that backstory but right now he really just wanted to get his dick sucked.

***

Castiel watched as a group of people descended the metal stairs. The two that he recognized were Sam and Dean, but neither of them looked keen on being there. Sam had a tense look almost as if he was fighting off one demon to chase another, and Dean looked tense. The other three were a handsome older man and two bound people.

Dean shoved aside the chairs leaving a more open section of the floor. He gestured towards the older man who suddenly vanished and reappeared with several cushions and pillows.

“Shots all around.” Dean called out as he poured a round of shots from the bottle of what Castiel assumed was whiskey.

Everyone slowly downed the shots except the bound man who refused.

They unchained the women who seemed only vaguely interested in anything except Sam her expression towards his was pure carnal lust.

“Ok.” Dean called out to everyone. It felt surreal. Castiel wasn’t sure what was going to happen but he was sure that whatever it was it was going to be wicked. His mind kept rebelling at the images. Of a shirtless dean and Sam, plus the half-naked man and woman.

“Let’s lay some ground rules.” Dean insisted.

“Cas.” He continued not looking at him. “Is here to watch cause that’s what I want.”

A strange feeling went through him. Dean wanted him to watch something… Castiel’s mind went back to the last time he watched Dean. He shuddered panicking. A tiny little part of him wanted to watch Dean… touch Dean.

“If anyone so much as touches him I will break your goddamned hand off… ok…?”

A strange feeling went through him.

Dean seemed to take their silence as assent.

“Now that we got that covered who wants to start fucking?”

There was a strange sense of panic that went through him. There was no way he could watch this collection of people have sex right in front of him and retain his sanity. He begun to pull on the handcuff the metal digging into his arm slightly. The cuff however did not budge.

Dean wasn’t really sure how to start while he had sex with strangers multiple times this was a bit different. He wasn’t fully versed on orgy etiquette. He had a few ménages in his day, but nothing like this.

He figured might as well jump right in.

He hit the music strange synthy electronic sounds filled the room, but there was a beat and he could work with that he pulled Ruby in for a kiss. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman the kiss was soft and only vaguely interested and that was fine he mostly just wanted to get the party rolling. He felt hands on his body as his brother came up behind the woman wrapping his arms around her his fingers just touching his ribs.

He rotated her in his arms so that she was facing Sam, the expression on his face spoke volumes. She betrayed him somehow.

She stood on her tip toes to kiss him her body rubbing against both of theirs as she did so.

Dean didn’t want to left out of his own orgy so he turned away for a moment.

“Hey.” Dean called out to the other man.

“I’ve been calling him stunt demon number two.” Crowley admitted smirking. He seemed content to watch for the moment drink in hand, but Dean didn’t doubt that he would get his fair share of the action when the time came.

Number two was still chained. Dean grabbed the wrist chains and pulled him up into a kiss. The stubble along his jaw was more familiar. While he was bisexual but he had been on a big dick bender as he liked to call it lately and Number two was no exception.

He heard a gasp from the pool table, he couldn’t be sure what elicited the sound from Cas so he ran his hand back down Number Two’s body. The leather harness felt stiff and soft beneath his fingers the metal grommets heated by his skin, his skin felt even better smooth and warm. Dean finally took the other man’s cock in his hand and he heard the gasping moan again. Castiel liked to watch alright the little voyeur. The man in his arms however whimpered his tone bordering on pain.

“He’s been in a chastity cage.” Crowley admitted nonchalantly

Dean grinned. “Is today your cum day?” he asked as a whisper in the other man’s ear swirling his tongue around the shell. Over the man’s shoulder he could see his brother as he ran his hands over Ruby cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass pressing her hips forward rising her up so that her pelvis was riding one of his thigh as she ground herself against him.

“No.” Number Two admitted and Dean smirked still whispering in his ear. “I bet we can make an exception if you’re good.” The man shuddered in his arms.

He took his hand and led him over to Sam and Ruby. Dean pulled her away from Sam her back pressed against his chest. He played with her nipples through the vinyl material as he spoke to her, he had a plan. She laughed excitedly gasping slightly as he pinched one nipple. The oddly possessive look on Sam’s face egged him on. Dean had never really been possessive before but he liked the idea of taking what he wanted. He would never break Ruby’s rule but Sam didn’t know that. He bit her shoulder she hissed pleasurably through her teeth.

“Hey Number Two.” The man turned towards him apparently fine with the nickname.

“How about you get you your knees and suck my brother off?”

A startled expression crossed Sam’s face. What it wasn’t like he was offering to do it himself, just wanted to watch another man do it.

He shot a glance back at Crowley. The man was sporting a raging erection, but he still seemed content to wait.

Castiel on the other hand was busy trying to do two things. One trying to get out of the cuffs and two hide his own throbbing erection he liked what he saw alright.

Dean licked Ruby’s ear murmuring just for her.

“Can I get you off with my fingers so Sam can watch while he gets his cock sucked?”

She inhaled sharply. She was clearly excited by this idea.

Sam gritted his teeth as Number Two knelt down in front of him. Most of his face was covered by a mask,

He palmed his aching erection through his jeans. Sam groaned. He had to admit it was hot. Maybe because of Lucifer’s imagination, but he had gotten used to lots of kinky sex and it was nice that he could do it on his own terms. Lucifer was still there lurking in the background but he couldn’t hear him.

The man rubbed his face against the fabric of his jeans slowly undoing his fly. He heard a woman moan. He glanced over to see Dean’s hand buried between her thighs beneath her dress. She was writhing back against him as he played with her clit.

He looked back down Number Two had pulled his jeans down he stepped out of the as the man lowered his boxers to the floor. His cock was already hard from kissing Ruby, Number Two leaned forward and licked the small dab of pre-cum off him. He shuddered his toes curling.

“Condoms?” He hisses out trying to make sense.

“I’m a demon darling,” he replied. “Don’t need one.” Sam’s brain tried to think of a reasonable argument but nothing came to mind.

Sam nodded quickly moaning softly as the man sucked the head of his cock into his mouth.

At the same moment Ruby cried out as Dean used his other hand to thrust his fingers inside of her.

The swirling suction around his cock had him moaning rocking his hips slightly forward. He groaned in pleasure fisting his hands in the other man’s hair.

Ruby screamed in pleasure moaning loudly as she came. A strange sense of jealousy and arousal went through him. She spun towards Dean and slowly lowered herself pulling out his brother’s cock. She was bent over enough that he could see her vulva lips as she sucked on Dean, he ground out a long and load moan.

Sam looked at Cas who also groaned, Dean really was doing a number on the poor man, but he had to admit if someone looked at him like that he would be hard pressed not to have him watch. Cas looked at Dean as if he wanted to eat him up, it was artless desire. He wanted Dean but he pulled back. It was easy to see why. The man was from another time, and a priest at that, but Dean had always gone after the unattainable ones.

Castiel watched as the woman’s lips wrapped around Dean’s cock. In that moment he couldn’t deny the emotions he felt. He was jealous, not of Dean of the woman. The woman who by some god given mystery of birth was allowed to wrap her lips around him and have it not be seen as a sin. At least less of one.

Castiel wanted sex. His whole life he had denied himself fantasies and now he was discovering them right before his eyes.   The man Dean referred to as Crowley was switching between watching them and him. Their eyes met for a moment and there was definitely some dark in them. Castiel forgot his arousal and felt another feeling apprehension. The man didn’t like him. There was something dangerous and calculating on his face even in the midst of all of this.

“Do I have to blow you myself to get you to join in?” Dean called out suddenly.

Towards the other demon. That strange sense of jealousy went through him. He wanted Dean to offer that. Not that he wanted the others. He found the one they called number two vaguely attractive the same might be true about Sam Winchester, the man had an awe-inspiring chest but it wasn’t images of Sam that made his cock ache. Castiel wanted to touch himself, badly he wanted to feel what they were feeling but he did not dare. He wanted to close his eyes but when he did he could still hear the sounds and it did not help his mind from creating an entirely different scenario where Dean took him down on the pallet on the floor and… what his mind refused to fill in the details.

Crowley smirked at Dean’s offer. It wasn’t the first time they had traded sexual favors. When Dean first got the mark, just as now a single person was not enough to satisfy him. At the time it has subsisted of Crowley jerking Dean off, Crowley did not sub for anyone. Not to say that bottoming was entirely submissive it wasn’t, but it was never his cup of tea either.

Dean walked over to him licking his fingers. The offer was more than appealing. There had been more than one occasion where he had wanted Dean on his knees. Dean knelt down before him.

“This doesn’t mean I have to listen to you or that I’m submitting to you, I just wanna suck your dick.” He informed him with the same cocky tone as he always did. Still the picture before him of a naked man kneeling at his feet made him recall Samandriel how he begged on his knees. That thought had warped from what really happened in many ways in his mind. He imagined Samandriel begging for his cock, he imagined fucking his mouth till the boy nearly gagged with it. Making him choke on his cock till pretty little tears covered his face saliva dripping down his chin. Then the boy would then beg him to whip him. All the lovely red lines across his back as he flogged him over and over a toy in the boy’s ass so he could focus on the pleasure while Crowley focused on the pain. Alternating with the toy and the whip until he came his cock untouched.

Dean pulled his erection from his slacks licking his palm he stroked it, the moisture adding extra glide. Crowley groaned relaxing into the physical pleasure. That was easy it was base it was effortlessly understandable.

Dean liked the taste of cock, like the feel of it in his mouth, Crowley somehow still looked completely normal his cock in his mouth still fully dressed. He moaned softly. He purposefully kept his hands off of Dean, because he knew from past experiences that Dean didn’t like the same things Crowley did.

He turned back to see that Ruby had put of the item he had retrieved for her.

“Take your clothes off like a normal person already.” Dean insisted. Crowley just smirked but he loosened his tie shucking his jacket.

Sam watched as Ruby adjusted the straps. She had slithered out of the vinyl dress and kicked off her shoes, making her even smaller. She wore the gloves, leggings and a bright red strap on.

Dean had to admit his brother’s girlfriend or whatever she was… was hot

He watched her insert the double sided feeldoe into her pussy. She moaned slight as it slid inside.

The mark was relaxing it wasn’t trying to kill him as hard as it was before away way.

Number Two was down on hands and knees on the padding in the floor. Dean was fine with just giving and receiving blowjobs at the moment because he knew once he took it further the mark wouldn’t let him stop and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t the only one getting his rocks off.

He grabbed the man by the back of his neck essentially scuffing him. He looked up at him he couldn’t right read the expression on his face. “You are gonna suck me while Ruby here pegs you is that ok?” The man whined but was breathing heavily his cock practically dipping precum. Dean wasn’t sure if he had dropped into Subspace or not he seemed in control still but he had a faraway look in his eyes. “What is your color?” Dean asked. The man nodded and Dean continued just to hold him.

“Green.” he finally gasped out realizing he needed to verbalize.

Dean shot a glance over to Crowley who seemed to if not to be the man’s master at least knew him better than Dean did.

Crowley nodded. “He’s still with us.”

“Do you remember your safe word?”

“Yes.” He replied quietly.

“If you use your safeword everything stops, but if you want just one thing to stop use the stoplight system or tap out ok?” The man glared at first annoyed then nodded his understanding. Dean didn’t want to ruin the mood but he also didn’t want anyone getting more than they wanted from this.

“Now get over here and suck my cock already.” He demanded.

Castiel watched as the bound man crawled on his hands and knees and took Dean’s cock in his mouth. He watch as he engulfed his cock all the way to the hilt bobbing his head up and down angling so that Dean’s cock slid in and out of his throat. Dean was moaning and Castiel had to bight his lip not to moan with him. It was literally the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life.

The woman came up behind the prone man she took a small bottle of some slippery substance and poured the oil into her hand, and she gently begun to stoke the man’s anus.

Small circles at first, the man groaned deep in his chest. Seemingly causing a moan to slip from Dean.  

After a few moments she slid a finger inside then two. The man on the floor was writhing in reckless abandon like he couldn’t decide if he would rather spear himself on her fingers shove Dean’s cock down his throat or rub himself against the friction of the padding. Finally she poured more of the clear liquid on to her palm and with a few quick motions of her hand slicked up the phallus, before slowly sliding inside the man who briefly pulled off Dean’s cock dropping his head to moan. Before returning to suck on Dean.

Sam watched as Ruby begun to slowly fuck the other man he could tell she was enjoying it. As her hips rocked forward he knew the other half of the dildo moved inside of her.

She had handed the lube back to him and he gently stroked his shaft lubing up. As much as he wanted to just shove his cock in her ass he didn’t. He placed both hands on her hips his thumb lined up with the pucker of her asshole so that he could tease the ridges with his thumb. She arched back towards him. He remembered that she especially liked having her hole played with.

Sam knelt spreading her cheeks wide lapping gently at the puckered hole, she squealed in delight and surprise. The taste was similar to any other genital area, like skin with a faint not unpleasant muskiness. His traced small circles around and around till he could tell she wanted more he slid his index finger inside using the saliva as lubricant. Once she starting moaning he inserted a second. His goal was three, as much as he wanted to hurt he sex wasn’t the way he wanted to do it.

While he knew it wasn’t necessary he rolled a condom over his cock. He wasn’t going to risk it.

He slid home and she screamed in pleasure. The tightness was driving him insane as he ever so slowly slid inside it was hot, so hot to the point he was whispering the words aloud a litany. His teeth clenched to maintain some sense of control, but was only human.

The man was a fucking hoover vacuum… he had to be. It felt like he was doing everything in power to swallow his cock whole and fuck it felt so god damn good. At first Dean held back not wanting to push the man, but he pulled out all the stops. He wanted Dean to fuck his mouth while Ruby fucked his ass and who was he to argue with a man who knew what he wanted.

He watched his brother slide his cock into Ruby’s ass as pleasure exploded over his face. Her breasts bounced her face contorted in pleasure. She moaned faltering in her thrusts and Number Two whimpered. He was getting close Dean realized. They all were.

He glanced back at Crowley nodding his head.

He picked Crowley because he wanted the burn, didn’t want foreplay wanted to feel his hole stretch the marked liked the little edge of pain, he was by no means a masochist, but in the moment he wanted it rough.

Dean wasn’t normally his type, there was a reason he was attracted to the little angel. He had a type and submissive and young-looking was it. However watching Dean and Ruby fuck his toy had been enough to get his possessive side interested.

Crowley unwrapped a condom it wasn’t anything personal he just also intended to get his cock sucked and while he was a demon he was also a gentleman. With just a cursory pass of lube across his prick he slid home. He felt Dean tense around him, his hole clenching and his body tightening. It hurt him, and Crowley had to admit that knowledge did wonders for his libido.

“Ah fuck.” Dean grunted out.

The clench of Dean’s arsehole was almost enough to push him further than he agreed. He wanted to be rough, pull Dean away bend him over the pool table right in his boyfriends face and fuck him hard squeezing his cock and balls until he screamed and came for him but he knew the rules.

Castiel had never wanted to touch himself more in his life. The scene before him a writhing mass of bodies. The moans and grunts the slap of skin to skin all surrounded but strange undulating music, but something held him back. Even if he allowed himself the guilty pleasure, he could not do so with everyone watching. Still he was so hard that he was aching. His clothing felt tight and uncomfortable and strangely his head was beginning to ache.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Castiel watching him and it turned him on even more. He was hopeless. He wanted to fuck him more than anything right now and if it wasn’t the universe on the line he would fuck the ever-loving hell out of him.

Number Two was groaning in earnest now the moaning felt good around his cock. It was Ruby who came first. She screamed a shriek of pleasure her tone dropping into a moan. “Yes, yes, yes,” she screamed her head thrown back. He thrusts getting sloppy until she withdrew from Number Two falling on her hands and knees as Sam pushed her down fucking her hard and fast making her scream again as he groaned and grunted his own completion.

They collapsed spent on the padding.

“Want to trade?” Dean insisted the mark was grabbing a hold of him again he needed to finish.

Crowely slid out of his ass removing the condom.

Dean shoved Number Two on his back next to. Sam and Ruby who were still curled up together.

Crowley knelt slightly so that he could shove his cock down Number Two’s throat. He was going to make him choke on it as he fuck his mouth till he came and make him swallow. He wanted to show off what a greedy little cum slut his pet was.

Dean lined his cock up lifting Number two’s legs up on his shoulders and then he slid inside the hot tight hole. He begun to pound into him as hard and furiously as he could the slapping sound of their skin enveloping the room.

Sam couldn’t help himself but he was watching his brother fuck another man and it was oddly turning him on. He liked the way Dean’s muscles rippled as he moved he liked how his hard cock disappeared into the man’s ass and the sounds he made. It was Lucifer’s fault, the times that he had come to him as his brother had warped his mind.

As he watched the muscles in Dean’s abdomen tense as he pounded into the other demon.

“It turns you on doesn’t it?” he heard Lucifer whisper in his ear. He had never left, he had lingered in the back ground but in the midst of desire he had been able to push him away. Now he was back creeping into his mind “You like the shape of your brother’s cock… don’t you Sammy?” he asked whispering in his ear. “Do you want your brother to fuck you like that? He asked. In the moment Sam couldn’t look away. His arms were tenses from where Dean begun to lift the demon up slightly so he and Crowley could get a better angle.

grabbing Number Two's cock and stroking him the man was screaming in pleasure begging Dean to let him cum

Ruby couldn’t have been aware of Lucifer but as if to punctuate what he could not yet do. She reached behind her from where they lay spooning together and stroked his quickly hardening cock.

“Or maybe have him bend you over a table and fuck you good and hard filling your ass up with cum.”

Dean came at that moment Castiel watched as Dean arched back shouting in pleasure. It took everything Castiel had not to pull out his own cock and follow him into bliss.

Then suddenly the image of the people before him vanished he blinked and one moment it was hedonism incarnate and the next it was someplace else.    

The smell of sex was still present but it was not the group of writhing bodies on the floor that he saw but Dean.

Across the table from him, smiling at him with the same suggestive smirk. His heart was beating fast. He was nervous. He wasn’t sure why he was here and the feelings behind it had more to do with Dean then he wanted to let on.

The room was dim, brocade patterns covered the wall. The table in which they sat was plush leather. Dean had placed drinks before them but he had not yet touched his.

He was clenching his hands to his side. He looked at Dean he was the same and yet very different. He was human, Castiel wasn’t sure how he knew this fact only that he would bet all of creation that it was true and that he somehow wasn’t.

“Hey. Relax” he insisted nonchalantly flashing him that same toothy grin.

“This is a den of iniquity.” He heard himself saying “I should not be here.”

“Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.” He finished taking a drink of his beer.

A scantily clad woman approached. Castiel felt no desire for her and yet he feared that Dean would judge him somehow for this. “Showtime.” Dean whispered encouragingly

“Hi. What's your name?”

Castiel tried not to look at her. He didn’t want to see into her soul, nor admire her body.

“Cas.”

As always lately he jerked in response to Dean saying his name.

“His name is Cas. What's your name?”

“Chastity.” The woman replied and yet he knew that her statement was false.

“Chastity.” Dean echoed.

Castiel quickly took a drink from his beer nervous. Dean would make him leave with this woman.

“Wow. Is that kismet or what, buddy? Well, he likes you, you like him, so dayenu.”

Chastity tugged lightly at his arm “Come on, baby.” She purred.

Dean caught him on the way past.

“Hey, listen. Take this.” He insisted stuffing a hand full of crumpled bills his way.

“If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant but he was thankful that there was going to be literature for him to order from.

“Go get her, tiger.”

Castiel remained still he didn’t want to go without Dean

“Don't make me push you.” He didn’t want to let Dean down so he followed the woman.

The woman took him to a room in the back that was garishly decorated in the same mauve color and smooth surfaces as the rest of the bar.

She straddled his lap running her fingers through his hair that part was nice.

She loosened his tie.

“How about we get you out of these clothes.” She pushed on his trench coat.

And he looked in her eyes and told her what he saw. She proceeded to smack him with her hands it was utterly harmless. She fled.

“Get out of my face! Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!”

He tried to follow her to comfort her. She threw something at him.

“I'll kill you!” She stormed past Dean

“Screw you too! God! Oh! Jerk!”

Dean approached him the concern underlying the disappointment

“The hell did you do?” He demanded

“I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.”

“Oh, no, man.” He muttered almost laughing “What?” “This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.”

Two large burly men entered from the door Chastity left through.

“We should go. Come on.”

He and Castiel head for the door at the opposite end of the corridor.

They ran out the back door.

Dean was laughing as he closes the door behind them

“What's so funny?” he asked not sure what brought on Dean’s mirth but glad that he was here to witness it.

“Oh, nothing.” He maintained shaking his head. “Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.”

Castiel’s heart squeezed as he watched Dean’s face fall face as he realized the gravity of his words.

The vision ended and was transported back to his body, his head aching now almost as much as his cock.

 

Dean was breathing heavy he was laying on top of Number Two. Number Two's cum on his stomach .He ran a comforting hand up and down his body. The man relaxed slightly. Crowley pulled away to zip up his fly. “Cheers boys.” He insisted never having fully gotten nude. “I’ll come back later to collect my things.” He assured indicating the two people. Before snapping quickly and he was gone just like that.

“Is he always like that?” Dean asked Number Two nodded, “Normally it’s hot in a ‘I probably have daddy issues’ kind of way but lately he’s just been an ass.”

Dean nodded. He glanced over at Sam he and the demon chick were making out again. Looks like they were eventually leading up to a round two.

He glanced back at Cas the man was going to have a heart attack or a meltdown. A tinge of regret went through him. What he did had not been fair to Cas. What he planned to do wouldn’t either.

“You good?” he asked checking in with Number Two.

He nodded “I’m gonna lay here a while and catch my breath you’re good.”

Castiel didn’t know what had happened he was feeling confused and raw. The images he saw they couldn’t be real. Dean walked over to where his jeans had been discarded and fished out the key. He knelt before Cas who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

It was hard to deny the raging erection that was straining against his fly.

“As I see it.” he began trying to meet his eyes “You have two choices Padre.”

Castiel’s cerulean blue eyes met his finally, there was an accusation there, but also something else a question… a yearning. He wanted Dean he wanted to be in a place where he could let go and be himself, without restraint. He needed Dean to push him. Maybe it wasn’t right, ethical or fair play, but he needed this.

“What is that?” he wondered.

“Either you get yourself off here.” He finished designating the war room. The look on the man’s face was pure terror.

“Or you let me do it, in the comfort of your room.”

His eyes widened to the point it was just purely comical. “Tick tock Padre.” He muttered watching him. If Castiel said neither, he would un-cuff him and from then on he wouldn’t bother the man at all until he had all this end of the universe shit sorted out. He wouldn’t force him but if he didn’t push him at all the man would live the rest of his short human life miserable.

“What do you choose?” he asked he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He murmured something that Dean couldn’t hear.

“What?” he asked leaning in.

Castiel’s blue eyes finally met his

“You.” He whispered softly

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on a side note Crowley has canonically had an orgy soo just reminding everyone of that fact. Oh and alternative universe Cas too.


	11. It's a hell of a feeling though

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the phrase write drunk edit sober might be a good idea if I had only gotten around to the editing part sorry if this chapter sucks.

He was leaning back against the stack of pillows on the pallet in the floor. Besides him the couple continued to writhe together. They seemed attached at the mouth. He watched as Dean Winchester bent over the human his body was buzzing his veins still singing full of endorphins. He couldn’t make out what they said as they spoke quietly to each other. He wasn’t sure what the human was to him, but his warning to the other indicated some level of attachment. He shouldn’t have bothered with the mask, he mused as the leather scratched at the corners of his jaw if Crowley hadn’t recognized him it was doubtful that Dean would. Still discretion was what had gotten him this far… that and his appreciation for taking it up the ass… people had the tendency of looking down on those who serviced others, those who volunteered as sex slaves more than most. As if reading his thoughts Dean Winchester was mysteriously before him again to prove him wrong. He had pulled jeans on but he was still shirtless leaving a pleasant expanse of tanned chest.

“Eat up.” He insisted tossing him something. He wasn’t prepared his reflexes slowed the item hit him in the chest painlessly before falling to his lap.

He glanced down at the packaged chocolate bar. In his hand Dean still had a blanket and a bottle of yellow sport’s drink.

Just when he thought he couldn’t be surprised by life after the apocalypse this happened.

“I told you I’m fine.” He insisted slightly annoyed sitting up, supporting himself with both arms his knee raised.

“I’m not gonna drop.” He continued almost as if it was a point of pride.

The look on the man’s face screamed that he wasn’t going to take his word on the matter. With an arched brow he handed over the sport’s drink dropping the blanket at his feet, not pushing it on him.

“I’m going in the other room for a little bit, but I will be able to hear if you call. I will be back soon and when I am you better have finished off both of those.” He insisted quietly. He wasn’t pushing him but there wasn’t any doubt of what was expected of him either. It was a curious sensation.

“I’m not going to drop,” he insisted “I don’t drop.” He added indignantly. “Besides…” he continued breaking eye contact for some reason Dean’s deep green eyes were pulling him in.

“Crowley has left me much worse off then what we did tonight.” He admitted perversely as if wanting to prove that he could handle anything that was dished out.

“Do I look like that smarmy British asshat?” he asked angrily.

Surprised he shook his head unsure what else he was meant to do.

As if satisfied with his response he turned towards the couple on the floor.

“If this …” he insisted gesturing vaguely towards the couple “…leads to a round two call me.”

He winked at him before he swaggered his way across the room and un-handcuffed the human leading him away.

Perhaps Dean Winchester was the way in he had been looking for Jason mused

Abaddon wanted hell badly, preferably by force it had taken much convincing on his part to get the knight to agree to try his way. She was the most blood thirsty demon he had ever seen outside of Picasso with a razor and he still suspected she could give Alastair a run for his money. She and the rest of her followers were outnumbered, and while he was basically suck between a rock and a hard place. Abaddon was strong and a knight of hell. He trusted her over Crowley in the event of Lucifer’s return, but she definitely did not have the raw numbers to beat him outright. Not yet. For low level guys like him it all came down to picking the winning team, and Dean Winchester was it. Any side that had Dean Winchester on it came out ahead in the end. Until the unfortunate matter of his death he’d been on a really good streak, and honestly that bit backfired for the natural order because Dean made on hell of an interesting demon. Dean was loyal to Crowley only because it was convenient. Maybe there was a way that he could change that.

***

Covington, Louisiana November 18th, 1948

Less than five miles outside St Benedict Louisiana

“We picked him up on a drunken disorderly.” The officer was saying over his shoulders. Castiel followed the man through the twisted back halls of the police station towards the cells.

The officer shot a look over his head. “But the man has a record a mile wide are you sure you wanna help someone like him Father?”

“Actually I’m not a priest yet.” He replied he was a Deacon he hoped to be ordained as a priest in the next six months. It was clear the man was unsure how to address him. While Covington was close to the seminary not everyone in the area was Catholic. “Deacon.” Castiel replied he nodded absently. “Anyway Deacon… sir” he added unsurely “This man’s been arrested for fraud, breaking and entering, grave desecration.” The last he turned back to Castiel again with a strange expression which showed how he found the last crime the most reprehensible.

“Not burglary?” Castiel asked they had stopped at the door leading into the room.

The officer shook his head scowling. Obviously this man troubled the officer. The confused look on his face spoke volumes.

“He never took anything.” Castiel frowned. “The fraud was for using fake Id’s.” the officer continued.

Castiel nodded he sounded like a good candidate for outreach as long as he didn’t have violent tendencies.

“Has he hurt anyone?”

The office scratched his head. “That’s just it, people talk about him as if he was hero.” Castiel absorbed the fact and filed it away for later.

“Half of the breaking and entering charges were eventually dropped.”

A good candidate. While he wasn’t yet the priest in Crossroads the current priest was more than willing to let Castiel participate and even create outreaches. He felt someone with a criminal past on the road to redemption would be a good example for others. He waffled on the idea for several days before approaching Officer Casey. He had asked for a man preferable middle aged or older with a checkered, but nonviolent past looking for a job. The arrest record went back about five years but the man was in his fifties. To Castiel it sounded like a man who was forced to follow the wrong path.

“Let me talk to him.” He finally decided the other man shrugged.

Unlocking the door.

The room was small still there were five cells crammed into the small space. The man in question was sprawled across the cot. His arm flung over his eyes.

“Balthazar Smith?” Castiel called out addressing the man.

“What do you want?” he asked he hadn’t moved, his speech was still slightly slurred. His accent was decidedly British.

“I want to speak to you about an opportunity.” He begun stepping closer.

The man sat up slowly looking over. He groaned beneath his breath, he seemed obviously to feel the effects of a night drinking. He sported a blackened eye and bruises along his face. His lip was split, Castiel wasn’t sure if the injuries were sustained during the arrest or sometime before that. The office had claimed that it was a drunken disorderly, but he also agreed that the man wasn’t violent.

He finally looked over towards him and his eyes widened. Castiel assumed it was his liturgical vestments. He wore his cassock and while he was still in training he wore the Roman collar, the bishop allowed for such when ministering.

“Bloooody hellll…” the man swore drawing out the words.

“My name is.” “Castiel.” The man whispered his tone hushed. He nodded “I see they told you I was coming.” Rather than reply the man simply nodded. Staring at him as if he had seen a ghost.

“You’re a priest?” He asked incredulously “Deacon, actually but I hope to be ordained by next year.” He continued.

The man seemed mystified by the concept. So Castiel continued with his own set of questions.

“The officer said you spent some time in prison.” The man was still staring at him as if he was the Holy Grail. He was unkempt his brown hair was short, but was disarrayed standing up from him in odd angles. He had several days’ worth of beard growth on his face, the stubble and hair gave him a bedraggled edge. He wore dark colored slacks a white shirt with a dark brown thigh length overcoat.

“Three years in Angola.” He admitted still staring.

Castiel pointed to the injuries on his face. “Were you fighting?” he asked

The man touched his split lip gingerly almost as if he had forgotten about it.

“Hunting accident.” He replied. Something about the way he said it caused Castiel to believe him.

“Can you explain why people have dropped charges against you?”

He shrugged. “I assume it’s my charming personality.” He remarked there was an edge of something else. Mirth, underlying a secret. There was more than he was letting on.  

“What opportunity were you talking about?” he queried.

“A possibility of a job.” Castiel continued.

“And _you_ would help me get one?” he asked strangely emphasizing the word you rather than focusing on job.

“Yes.” Castiel agreed. “I would endeavor to find you a job that might over look your criminal past. That is if it stays in the past.”

He nodded knowingly.

“Are you bailing me out?” he wondered he stepped up to bars wrapping his hands around them he leaned forward oddly draping himself over them.

Castiel stepped closer. He could smell the man’s cologne and the smell of alcohol. His eyes were piercing.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He admitted. He didn’t have the funds for the man’s bail but he wasn’t being kept indefinably, the officer explained once he sobered up they would let him go he would likely receive a fine.

The man was looking at him strangely taking him in. Castiel felt oddly exposed.

“A priest.” he murmured again almost to himself “What are the odds”.

“And why is that?” he wondered.

“Because I’ve been looking for… faith all my life.” Their eyes met and again he felt that there was a strange sense that they were talking about different things.

“So you will repent and come with me?”

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.” He answered instantly the conviction in his words seemed incongruous to the situation, but he could respect a man’s desire to change.

“You’ve been a citizen for six years correct?” he asked. “Was it because of the war?” Castiel asked conversationally trying to get a better understanding of the man before him. He had the stance of a soldier. He had seen that look in some of his fellow soldiers after he had returned home. A darkness.

“I landed here in 1942 and yes it was because of a war.” He replied and again Castiel got the sense they were having two conversations at once.

“I see.” He replied.

“You were a solider?” Balthazar asked looking him over again.

He nodded. “You?”

“Seems like all my life.” He admitted. “I am ready for a change.”

Castiel never regretted helping Balthazar even if the man didn’t change as much as he wished he had. He was still an irrepressible drunk, and a sarcastic somewhat narcissistic vagabond but he was a loyal friend. More than Castiel could have ever hoped for. Still there were times when he wondered about the man and his past. He was tightlipped about his past before Castiel met him and even more so about his past before coming to the US. Castiel stopped wondering he was hiding a deeper criminal past, but rather what forms of abuse kept him from revealing his former life.

Still at one point he admitted that he had come to the states with a mission of finding someone. He never said if he found them.

***

The mark was quieter now. He could hear his own misgivings now. What he did… while incredibly hot was not right. He might assume that Castiel wanted to watch him fuck and hell maybe he did enjoy it, but he shouldn’t have forced him. Currently he was walking towards Cas’s temporary bedroom. His hand around the upper portion of the other man’s arm. Guiding him forward. His face was apprehensive. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was afraid. His eyes were blown wide and the look on his face was nervous, but he didn’t see fear in him. They moved quickly he wasn’t dragging the man, they kept pace. He wanted this… that’s what he kept telling himself. He was sexually repressed and had to be pushed into finding what he really wanted and it was obvious that he wanted him, they wanted each other. Even as the thoughts filtered across his brain, he knew they felt wrong. The pieces didn’t fit together right and hit a discordant note inside him. They reached his bedroom door. Dean released him and opened the door. The man didn’t run or fight him… but maybe he was afraid. Dean had been afraid.

Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt. He wasn’t willing and yet… he could just not fight this. Let Dean touch him and justify to himself that he had no choice. He wasn’t sure how he felt there was a swirl of emotions. His heart was beating too fast partially he knew it had to do with his the desires of his body. Which was why sins of the flesh were forbidden to priest they distracted from reality. It felt good, and yet he knew it was wrong. He was so confused. Watching Dean had been the most erotic experience of his life. In the moment he had craved the opportunity to be any of the people writhing with him. He yearned for the privilege of touching him of being touched by him, and yet… he was afraid, somewhere deep inside he couldn’t shake the fear. It wasn’t even the fear of hell. He was in hell. He had already sold his soul to a demon and he had come to terms with that, why did he still hold back? What had Dean said in that surreal vison?

Iniquity was one of perks? Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of the vison yet but he had a more pressing issue to focus on.

Dean looked the man over. He still wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right… no honestly he knew it was wrong and still he was having trouble stopping himself. Dean closed the door sealing them alone together. Cas stood before him. The silence was palpable. He looked so innocent and lost. He was biting his lip and yet his erection hadn’t flagged. He was still painfully aroused. Dean didn’t move towards him. He couldn’t move until he decided what the right thing was.

“What do I need to do?” Castiel asked hesitantly.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to speak his eyes however inadvertently darted towards the bed. Castiel moved and lay on the mattress. Dean drank him in.

He lay back against the mattress. There was a blush on his cheeks. His erection was clearly visible through his slacks. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar the black shirt was open at the collar because of it. Dean could see the paleness of his throat and chest. He imagined a different sort of collar around his neck. He wanted him. He couldn’t even say that it was the mark. Or the connection from the other universe. He wanted the man before him. The lost lonely vulnerable man.

“Now what?” Castiel asked unsurely. He was physically in pain. He wanted release, he wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted or not but he would accept this if Dean wanted to make him he wouldn’t stop him. If a tiny part of him wanted Dean to touch him he ignored it. He supposed the first step would be to remove his clothing.

Dean watched as Castiel slowly begun to unbutton his shirt before tossing it aside. The expanse of his chest was on display and it was in that instance that he realized that he had never seen the man in any less than his Sunday best. He wanted to bend down and catch one of his nipples in his mouth. Test the taste and texture with his tongue. Lick his way down across his ribs swirl his tongue around his navel.

Dean was watching him in a way that made his heart skip a beat. Was this what it felt like to be desired? This was the feeling he had craved his entire life. Could it really be wrong if it felt this right?

Slowly he begun to unzip his fly.

Dean had him. In this instant he knew that even without physically forcing him. He could make the man do anything that he wanted. He was exposed and susceptible and he couldn’t take advantage of him. Not like this. He had been in the very same position once. He shuddered remembering. He had thought that it was what he wanted, but in the end he realized it was manipulation. He opened his mouth to speak when Castiel slipped down his pants, then he was incapable.

Castiel watched Dean as he took his throbbing erection in his hand. In that moment he felt the power in the room shift.

Dean was not forcing him to touch himself. He was the inspiration. Dean made him watch him and while it wasn’t what he wanted he couldn’t deny that it changed something. It forced him to realize he wanted men, a fact that he known his whole life and yet how somehow shifted to the background of his life. He didn’t know the morality of it and in the moment now it didn’t matter he just realized that it was who he was.

Dean watched Castiel stroke his cock he moaned loudly almost surprised as his eyes fluttered closed only the biological fact that he had just came was all that kept him from getting hard. As a demon he had a quicker refractory period then if he was human but it wasn’t immediate.

“Son of a bitch…” he whispered astounded watching the man.

It was artless. He wasn’t putting on a show for his benefit he was feeling good.

“I’m sorry.” Dean blurted before turning to leave.

Castiel paused.

“What?” he asked stopping.

Dean wasn’t a monster, a demon yes, but he wasn’t going to manipulate him like this. The same way Alastair did to him.

“I’ll just give you some privacy.” He insisted.

Castiel frowned confused again. Did Dean not want to stay? He voiced his confusion.

“Did you… not want to?” he asked not yet able to bring himself to say the words. There was a slight quaver to his voice that he wished wasn’t there.

His back was to him.

He chuckled darkly.

“I want to.” He replied his voice shaking. “So badly.” The yearning in his voice reassured him. There was a hesitation before he continued. “But it’s not right.” In that moment Castiel felt like he had been stabbed. All his fears all his insecurities… they were right. Dean turned back around in that moment he must have sensed his mood shift.

“Not this.” He gestured to him. “Trust me there are so many good things I want to do to you if you and the universe would let me.” Castiel paused. “Then what?”

“I forced you to watch me and then manipulated you into this situation. I want to watch you… touch you. Maybe more than anything I’ve ever wanted but I can’t do it like this. I want your consent to all of it. I don’t want any doubts between us.”

That was the problem wasn’t it? Doubt Castiel seemed to be filled with nothing but doubt when it came to Dean. He wasn’t sure about anything. He couldn’t believe that his desire for Dean was without sin, but he couldn’t quite believe that it was inherently wrong either.

“I am going to leave now.” He turned his back towards him. “But what if I want you to stay?” Castiel asked sitting up quickly surprising himself.    Dean’s hand paused on the doorknob.

Maybe to start this situation was beyond his control. What Dean had said was true but Castiel realized that what he said was true also. He didn’t want Dean to leave.

“Then tonight when you have a clear head. If you still want to, you know where to find me.” He walked out the door shutting it behind him. It was harder than he ever thought it would be leaving him. For several moments he waited leaning against the wood of the door waiting until he heard it. A slight moan coming from the other side of the door. Part of him desperately wanted to turn back and go inside, but he wouldn’t. He still had a speck of morality left.

Alastair made him into a demon, but briefly he made him into more than that. When you break a man you can shape him easily into whatever you like and Alastair liked him on his knees.

At the time he knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but no didn’t feel like an option. Deep down he, knew that he wasn’t that man, but he could not say no to Alastair. While there was no shame in being submissive but what Alastair wanted was subservience. He had been afraid. If he had to admit it now if only to himself. The man unmade him once and he knew he was capable of doing it again. For a long time he forgot that sex could be anyway but pain and shame. Alastair’s torture was more than just physically ripping into his body. He would coerce him with promises that the pain would stop if he let him touch him and for a while it would. He would suck his cock and Alastair would run his hand through his hair and he would be without pain. Then he would choke the life out of him with his bare hands with no provocation. He could never tell what would set him off. One moment he would be enticing and nearly kind the next he would be torturing him again. Only this time with more vehemence than before almost as if he saw Dean’s weakness in giving into him as a punishable offence that he needed to cut out of him. Even after he truly became a demon he couldn’t immediately shake Alastair’s power over him.

He needed a drink. He needed to drown it all under a sea of booze that was he usual approach after all. Anytime he felt anything he buried it. He pushed it down deep inside of himself. He shoved it down, and let it come back out in spurts of violence and alcoholism. That or he fucked the pain away. Honestly he lost track of how many drinks he had in a week. When he was human it was somewhere in the mid-fifties, now who knew. Sometimes he went through a fifth a night at least sometimes more. Still he couldn’t feel anything but empty. It was worse than normal. Having these visions, still they were no closer to finding out who Castiel was and how the universe was changed. He swung by the kitchen for a bottle of hunter’s helper before returning to the war room to check on the development of round two.

***

Lucifer was whispering in his ear, he tried to drown out the sound with Ruby’s body, but ultimately he was still equally as angry with her as he was with Lucifer. It was her fault. All of it the apocalypse… Lucifer… what Lucifer did to him. If he hadn’t trusted her none of it would have happened, but with Dean gone he had been blinded by vengeance, blood and power.

He pulled away glancing around the room.

“Don’t mind me.” The man in the mask replied. He was steadily munching on a chocolate bar as he leaned back against the pillow one arm curled behind his head still completely nude.

“Knock yourselves out.”

Sam nodded, grabbing Ruby’s hand. He wasn’t necessarily planning to have sex but he needed to talk to her. Lucifer followed them. The disembodied voice whispering in his ear like a gnat.

***

Sam and Ruby were gone, but Dean really wasn’t that distraught at missing out on round two. Stunt demon number two was leaning back on the pillows the candy bar was gone but he was still working on the sports drink. Dean wasn’t going to say anything however. Dean settled down next to him with a sigh. His knees raised up. He offered the man the bottle.

He shook his head. Dean shrugged that was fine with him.

“So… stunt demon number two worked for the orgy but I can’t keep that up long term so what’s your name.”

There was the briefest of a pause before he answered. He still wore the mask and harness so Dean couldn’t quite read the hesitant expression in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was reluctance because he didn’t want ruin the mystery or if it was something else.

“Max.” he replied extending his hand for a shake.

Dean took it with a laugh. “I think we are a bit beyond this now don’t you think?” he teased gesturing to the mask. Max grinned. It looked nice it framed his jaw. There was hesitancy again, before he removed the mask. He liked how tan he was, the bit of dark brown growth on his face, he was attracted to the man that was to be sure. He could see the demon beneath the man, he was a demon after all but he tended to ignore it and focus on the vessel. That might have been a throwback from his time as a hunter but he didn’t want a reminder at how fugly demons really were.

He smiled at Dean and Dean felt himself relax.

“So what are you doing with Crowley anyway?” Dean wondered. It didn’t seem like Crowley was the best type of master, unless you were an intense masochist. Dean had to admit he wasn’t sure how someone could do what Max did. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with his bad experience with Alastair or if that kind of submission just wasn’t in his nature.

The man shrugged. “It is diverting.” He admitted his tone still distant. Max turned towards him his dark mahogany brown eyes focusing on his face.

“What about you?” Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you with Crowley?” “I’m not _with_ Crowley.” Dean insisted indignant.

Max shrugged again. “Maybe not in the same way.” He conceded. “But you are his attack dog, his enforcer.” Dean didn’t reply it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. Max leaned back the back of his head cradled in his hands. “Might want to check and see which one of is really wearing Crowley’s collar.”

“I am not Crowley’s bitch.” He insisted feeling his hackles raise.

“No. I am,” Max agreed good-naturedly. “You just work for the guy. Much classier.”

There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He scowled. The man smiled “Oh cheer up.” He teased.

“None of this must be news you.” The sad thing was it wasn’t. Dean knew what he place was in this new world order. He needed to kill. It was a matter of biology. The mark needed it and it was only a matter of time before he started up again. It was his decision. He chose to take the mark. When Crowley gathered his most loyal demon’s to him in opposition against Abaddon. He knew that creating more knights of hell was the only way to combat her. Cain told them the mark came with a price and at the time Dean hadn’t cared. He had been willing to pay anything. He had needed a purpose.

“What about the human?” Max wondered drinking from the sports drink.

“What about him?” Dean asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to share Castiel. It was a strange concept to him especially since he knew full well while technically he owned Castiel he wasn’t his to share.

“He seemed special to you.” Max replied. “Well he’s not.” Dean insisted not wanting to show weakness. Max seemed like a good guy but he couldn’t trust anyone.

Max nodded politely but he could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t fully believe him.

“He is fascinating.” Dean admitted, pacifying him. “I can’t figure him out.” Max nodded quietly.

“Kinky?” he asked continuing the conversation. “Hardly…” Dean began then paused. He knew the man had it in him to enjoy the kinkier side of life. “He’s a priest.” he admitted. “And a homophobic virgin.”

Max laughed “Do you like a challenge or something?” he wondered and it was true to a certain degree. Dean did love a challenge, but with Cas it was more than that somehow. “Cas is…” he begun floundering for words good enough to describe the man. “ I like him.” he admitted while it didn’t sound like high praise it was.

“But he’s human?” “He’s different” Dean corrected forgetting to be discreet. It probably didn’t help that he had likely dunk his weight in liquor.

“How is he different?” Max wondered. “He reminds me of the past.” he admitted and it was as close to the truth as he could admit. Cas reminded him that things could be different. That the apocalypse wasn’t always inevitable.

“I can get behind that.” Max admitted. Dean turned towards him.

“So being a demon isn’t all sugar and spice for you? Dean teased. Max shrugged.

“Might be easier for you…being management and all but for the most part being a demon sucks.”

Dean didn’t reply it wasn’t a lie. He loved to power, that was true, but there was a hollowness deep inside that he assumed was the loss of his humanity that made things different. The same things he used to enjoy during his life were no longer enough. He couldn’t just have a beer he needed a hundred before the emptiness let him relax. He couldn’t just have sex, it had to been balls to the wall kinky sex before he got half his former enjoyment out of it.

Yet having met Castiel seemed to change that somehow. He had been having the visons for a while now but things had changed with Castiel.

There was Sam for one… he loved his brother. He didn’t used to but now he did. It was confusing. Then there was Cas himself.

“Do you not like being a demon?” Max conjectured.

“I don't know;” Dean admitted not sure where he was going as he said the words. “There's things, there's people, feelings that I want to experience differently than I did before, or maybe even the first time.” He acknowledged


	12. Deep inside your soul there's a hole you don't wanna see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be in a pattern of a Dean and Cas chapter and then other character chapters sorry if this gets annoying.

Sam held Ruby’s hand as he led her to the library. It was strange they had just had sex but that small touch felt too intimate. He had pulled his boxers back on she had never fully removed her liquid material dress. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Lucifer whispered in his ear. “You will always be mine.” He was like the ghost of christyounevershutup just whispering in his ears rattling his chains. A specter of the poor decisions of his past Ruby included “Shut up.” He whispered harshly.

“I hadn’t said anything yet.” Ruby complained.

Sam didn’t bother to correct her. Once they reached the library he released her hand practically flinging it away from him. She stepped away confused. Then again from what he had seen of demons, they didn’t have a wide array of emotion. She assumed that they were fine because they had sex.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. She put her hands on her hips glaring at him.

“I thought that was obvious.” She sneered. Gesturing to her body and alluring attire. Her lipstick was smeared. Likely the same color soiled his mouth. He absently swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. She raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

“I meant why are you really here? We both know this isn’t about an orgy.”

“I wanted to see you.” She replied her voice sounding smaller, but he didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit.” He insisted. She stepped forward laying a hand on his arm. Her fingers skimmed over the raised lines of scar tissue. There way sympathy or pity on her face.

“No.” he insisted through clenched teeth. Stepping back holding his hand out trying to put distance between them. He didn’t want her touching him. Didn’t want her pity.

“We both know what a duplicitous bitch you are. So don’t bother feigning interest in me now. Why are you here?”

“I know you are a little angry right now but you still have to admit I’m awesome.”

She had said those words to him before at the gate right before Lucifer arrived, but he hadnt listened then. He would have killed her then… should have killed her. His powers depleted he had been weak he could only stare at the gate in abject despair.

“You don’t care about me.” He insisted he watched Lucifer pace behind them. He was obviously frustrated at his inability to interact with them.

“You poisoned me.” He insisted thinking about the demon blood because even know he could feel the hunger growing. It had been a few days since he last fed and he was feeling the dull pounding in his head that reminded him that he really wasn’t fully human after all.

“You tricked me into freeing Lucifer, into becoming his slave.”

“No. It wasn't the blood. It wasn’t me. It was you... and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time.” she insisted but there was something in her face maybe regret.

“He’s gonna be grateful. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine” Sam continued parroting the words she said to him all those years ago.

Something akin to shame crossed her face.

“Sam I…” she began.

“Oh he repaid me alright.” She flinched at his words.

“He stole my body,” he continued stepping closer to her. “And that wasn’t enough for him, he used it to perpetrate atrocities on all of humanity and forced me to watch powerless.”

“Sam I didn’t…”

“Was I done?” he shouted his words nearly a growl. A chair flew and knocked the legs out from under her as she fell into the chair. He fought off the massive headache that swarmed over him. His power was limited, he didn’t have enough juice to kill her, but she didn’t know that he could see the fear on her face, and considering he was half naked he would take that as fairly indomitable.

“That still wasn’t enough for him.” she shook her head she didn’t want to hear it. Good.

“He raped me.”

He could see the look of Lucifer’s face behind her. It was surprised. He wore nick’s face and his brows arched flabbergasted.

“He invaded my mind and made me want him. Forced himself on me, again and again and again.” he finished his voice trembling. He was talking to Ruby and yet his eyes met the devil over her shoulder.  

It was strange but he did seem genuinely stunned, by his words.

“I didn’t know” Ruby interrupted him. Sam glared at her in disbelief.

He was about to rebuke her when she continued

“I knew that he was going to take over the world I didn’t know it would end like that.”

“What, bloody?”

“No, you. I didn’t know he would do that to you. To all of us.”

“Lucifer is full of hate and power he is a monster, what did you expect?”

“He was the angel of light.”

Sam turned away, he couldn’t bear to look at him.

“So what you came to apologize?” he mocked.

When she didn’t answer he turned. Lucifer was gone.

She stood slowly and walked towards him.

“No.” she admitted. He felt his anger rising again.

“I should, but I won’t” she continued he let her.

“I came because I need your help.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “Of course.” He jeered

“Well as you can see I’m out of the saving the world business.” Sam turned to leave the room he was done, he was gonna take Dean up on that beer now and join his brother in getting mind numbingly drunk. “It worked so well the last time.”

“What about the universe?” she insisted.

He paused. Every fiber of his being told him not to turn around that he had earned his exile with his poor decisions. That he was not meant to be a hero. It was in his DNA from the moment that Azazel bled into his mouth as an infant he was cursed. He was destined to end the world because it was meant to him, it was always meant to be him. Still he turned towards her.

“What are you saying?”

“Crowley thinks this universe is collapsing.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked suddenly concerned.

“I didn’t hear for sure, I heard him and your brother talking about it.”

“Dean knows about this?” he asked she nodded.

“Why should I believe you?” Sam wondered.

“Because what I heard was that someone altered the past.” Sam frowned.

Mulling over the consequences of her words.

“You think it’s about the apocalypse.” He insisted.

She nodded. “I think someone changed things.”

“Lucifer?” Sam wondered. He had returned it made sense, but how could he have changed anything.

“Who else?” she wondered.

Sam paused. The end… the apocalypse maybe it could have been stopped after all. Maybe they could still stop it.

“Why are you telling me this?” Sam insisted “After how hard you worked to make the end of the world happen what is in this for you?”

She paused looked away for a second.

“I was there…” she finally continued. “I saw the end of the world and that wasn’t what I wanted.”

He almost believed her. Still he had been burned before.

“Why me?” he wondered the words slipping out unintentionally “Why not Dean or Crowley they are demons.”

“Exactly, do you really think Dean wants a different world?” Her words stuck him. He wasn’t sure.

***

Lucifer returned to heaven exhausted, it was clear that he would not get Sam’s acceptance easily. He sat on his throne his thoughts heavy. Sam thought that he raped him. The thought troubled him. He gave the man everything and still it was never enough for him, he turned what they did together into something ugly. It was scapegoating he knew it. Sam was ashamed by what they had done together and he insisted that it was by force. Still Lucifer was not so easily dissuaded. While he was used to acting more decisively he could use kid gloves. Perhaps that was what Sam needed a more delicate touch. While he needed his vessel back he could afford to wait. He had done as such before. He never forced Sam, he had given him permission to enter his body. Perhaps it was true that Sam thought he would beat him but that was inconsequential. The words were said. That was what mattered.

***

Crowley was coming down. He could feel the headache beginning behind his eyes and spreading across his forehead and backwards engulfing his entire being.

He was in the beginning of a nasty mood. He smelled of sex. He was dying for a shower and another hit of human blood, yet sadly he was getting none of those things, because in his addled state he had allowed the angel to take his brother off the sedatives and he needed to be ready. Eight years ago when he had made the deal with Michael he had brought the angel to hell and as decimated as he was he killed seven demons. He had learned from that experience, he had taken Michael off the majority of the sedatives just enough to allow him to regain consciousness but not enough to test how recovered his grace was. While Hell was mostly shielded from angels, he didn’t want to risk Lucifer becoming aware of Michael until he wanted it. Crowley was the master of contingency plans, in his deal with Michael he saved him, but Michael could not harm him or his position as ruler of hell. Still his hold over the angel was tenuous at best and completely nonexistent in his current state of mind. Perhaps he could spin this to his advantage.

He opened the door to the dungeon he couldn’t exactly leave his little angel in his room could he? Not with the things he now knew. He had effectively made the boy desirably to everyone against him with one small misstep.  

The boy was chained in quite a fetching manner. His hands suspended above his head his arms spread out. He was still fully dressed but Crowley could easily picture him, shirtless and bound. His smooth pale chest exposed to the elements and to him. He shook himself. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. He had just had sex and still the thoughts of this singular angel entered his mind. It bothered him. He usually felt little attachment to his partners. The boy was not even a partner, not truly. Yes through torturing him he had revealed a great deal about himself still he knew it was all imaginary.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked his tone placid as the angel glared at him. His jaw clenched his eyes snapping...twelve hours of chains was nothing new to him.

Samandriel’s eyes narrowed, if looks could kill he would be truly well smote. Still he didn't fear the boy, perhaps he should part of the reason he was still alive was because he never underestimated anyone. The angel was strong, he would give him that. Always had to give him that benefit. While he had tortured him for years he broke yes, but everyone eventually broke. While Alastair might have the reputation for being Picasso with a blade he was all flash and little substance. He could break a man mold him into something else entirely, but he didn't learn anything in the process. Each new body was the same to him a prison of flesh and bone to hack against until he reached what he was searching for. As an artist Crowley felt his work was a bit derivative.

Samandriel didn't reply which was the best option given to him. It left Crowley to guess at his thoughts. Crowley watched the angel it was difficult to decide what he was thinking. It was clear that he was angry with him, but he still needed to maintain power over him, so he took the angel from his brother's bedside directly to his dungeon, without informing him of his intent. Then he proceeded to leave to fulfill other base needs. While his time spent with Dean and his cohorts was pleasurable it still hadn't filled the aching void inside him. Something told him that this angel could fill it. A part of his mind tainted with human blood reminded him that this angel was so earnest and pure with his reactions while he withstood torture that would make a lesser man lose his mind he did not break entirely, and his screams were their own version of music.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked breaking Crowley out of his rather romantic reprieve.

"Yes...” Crowley agreed remembering the task at hand.

"I thought you wanted to see your brother."

There it was again that strange hope that lit his face. Crowley wanted to both squash and foster that emotion in the same second. It was maddening.

He stepped up to the boy they were very close. He could feel his body heat as he reached to uncouple one of the cuffs. Without moving he reached for the other his hand brushing the skin of the angel’s cheek.

Once free the boy absently rubbed his wrists. Crowley wondered if they were chaffed.

Crowley turned and left the room without waiting to see if the boy was following. If he stopped he would have pulled up his sleeved to see if his skin was indeed reddened. He was king of hell and on occasion that meant that he had to get his hands dirty, with a bit of violence or torture, it was his job to keep his personal and professional life separate. It might have been easier if he had a personal life.

He could just barely hear the angel's shuffled footsteps behind him over the tormented wails of the damned. While the majority of hell was a quee line. The bowels of hell were still very much archaic black walls made of scorched bones, flaming torches. Blood for mortar and shrieks echoing off every wall. A tad gouache he would admit but it had that certain aesthetic appeal that frightened. Unlike Orpheus Crowley didn't look back to check if the angel was following him as he led him out of the bowels of hell back towards his personal quarters. His quarters consisted of an entire floor if you will of hell. It included his bedroom his study which was now occupied with Michael, a few other rooms and his private dungeon. Perhaps he should just keep the angel there. The thought briefly entered his mind and yet he immediately dismissed it. He couldn’t combine pleasure and his job. He needed to keep the angel locked away for professional reasons. Still that didn't mean he couldn't keep the angel near him. Depending on how things went with Michael he might need to keep the angel close at hand. He could convert one of his spare rooms into a makeshift prison. It would give the angel more comforts than what he was used to while still maintaining a professional distance and keeping him close if there was ever a need to dispatch him. Crowley had to admit he didn't want to kill the angel. That was partly the reason he continued torturing the lad even though he had known that there was no further information of value left within him. He hadn't wanted it to end. Crowley paused at the entrance to his study the only way inside was through a private ingress in his bedroom. “If I take you through these doors you must do exactly as I say. Our previous deal is still in effect for another twelve hours so I cannot harm you in that time but as I have said before that amount of time is short to creatures like us. I could just as easily make you wish I’d killed you.”

The angel nodded.

“You misunderstand…” Crowley continued.

“This is a deal... agree that within the confines of that room you will do as I say. no questions no hesitation. I require your blind obedience or I will stick that needle back in your brother’s arm drag you back to the dungeon and that will be the end of it. Do I make myself clear?”

Samandriel straightened his spine he would not be cowed he met his gaze as he nodded.

“Crystal.”

Samandriel did not wait for Crowley he stepped forward and kissed him.

Crowley had to admit he liked the angel’s moxie however this was not the place for it. He grasped the angel by the back of the neck and deepened the kiss. Pressing their mouths together furiously until the angel pulled back surprised. Life was a game of chess with each action a move on the board, Crowley would not ley the angel beat him at his own game.

The angel was staring at him his expression wide eyed and misty.

“After you.” Crowley insisted.

***

Samandriel cautiously stepped forward. Hesitant, he worried at the ultimate ramifications for what he had just agreed to. Still he needed to see Michael he couldn’t worry about his own safety. In the stories of Michael he had always seemed so righteous, and strong. He had to admit in his youth he had a bit of a hero worship crush on him, but it was harmless. Neither of them would have ever acted upon it. Michael had said as such while not in so many words. He severed god not his own desires and he had asked the same for Samandriel.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the room was the temperature. It was oppressively warm, immediately causing a thin film of sweat to break out on his upper lip and on the back of his neck. At first glance the room seemed the same as before. The same converted study stuffed to the gills with medical equipment and furniture, but something in the air felt different there was a crackle of awareness that had been missing before. The feel of a conscious angel, especially one as powerful as Michael. He looked for Michael first on the hospital bed which was conspicuously empty. He was about to turn to Crowley in anger when he spotted the angel. In the corner of the room huddled in a red velvet armchair that was wedged between a lamp and the corner of the room.

In what he had originally mistaken as a bundle of blankets. Michal was swaddled beneath a blue cable knit blanket his mutilated arm and leg hidden beneath the swaths of fabric. One bare leg was rooted to the floor his intact arm gripped the side of the chair for balance almost as if he feared he would fall to the floor without it. He looked wan, his eyes seemed like huge dark sunken pits in the midst of his pallid face. His cheekbones stood out as a stark contrast making him look gaunt. His face was downcast as if he head was too heavy to lift, he stared down at the floor.

Almost as if he was compelled Samandriel rushed towards him and quickly knelt at his feet. Michael eyes slowly raised the minuscule distance from his feet to his face “Michael?” he asked.

Ultimately he knew it was him and not the human vessel. It was obvious by the very fact that he was alive and the ever so slight vibration of his grace, still this pitiful creature before him had nothing in common with the Michael he once knew.

His brows knitted together as he frowned he cocked his head to the side he seemed to look through him rather than at him.

“Is that who I am?” his manner was distant, tentative.

Samandriel whirled towards Crowley his question must have been written on his face.

Crowley slowly walked towards him his tone even and perhaps a little grim. “My doctors tell me that he is experiencing a Dissociative fugue,” Samandriel frowned. “Like amnesia? He wondered. Crowley nodded “He’s lost every identifying characteristics of individuality, you might say he actually is the perfect angel.”

Samandriel shot the demon an evil look.

he smirked

“My doctors assure me that it is a temporary condition but they have been saying it for years.”

Samandriel turned back towards him. The angel he knew had to be in there somewhere.

Michael was studying his face intently. “Do I know you?” he asked he reached a hand out towards him his hand just barely tracing the shape of his jaw. It felt like electricity shot straight through him.

“I’m Samandrial.” He told him he didn’t think that Michael would remember him. They met such a long time and he doubted if he made much of an impact on the other angel.

“Bright eyes.” he murmured wistfully before looking away.

The words made no sense to him.

He turned to Crowley the man shrugged “What part of he's off his bloody rocker did you not understand?”

Samandriel sighed heavily turning back to stare into the other man’s face. The answers to the apocalypse where there somewhere locked inside his head. If only Samandriel could find a way to reach him.

“Do you know anything about yourself?” Samandriel wondered.

Michael shook his head emphatically at first before continuing more gradually confused

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

Samandriel to continue with patience.

“You are an angel of the lord.” He persisted

“Then why am I in hell?” he wondered looking around almost as if he had just recognized his surroundings.

“It’s complicated.” Samandriel continued weakly.

“You made a deal.” He begun. “That’s enough on that topic for now darling.” Crowley insisted lightly placing his hand on his shoulder, the pressure was slight but the message was clear. Stop talking. He knew the repercussion when he stepped into this room.

Michael was studying him intently. He had pulled himself closer to him in the chair, his eyes followed the path of Crowley’s hand.

"Darling?" he asking ruminating on the word.

"That’s right." Crowley continued grinning cheekily Michael frowned, but his frown disappeared as he turned back to him.

"What happened to me?" he wondered. There was pain in his voice and yet also trust. He trusted him to answer honestly.

"There was a..." Samandriel delayed trying to think of a way to tell him the truth, but put it gently in a way that he might understand.

Ultimately he decided that the truth would be better no matter how blunt. “There was a war." he admitted. Michael nodded. "and I lost?" he asked he seemed very certain of that fact, but then again the man woke up in what amounted to a hospital missing an arm and a leg.

"We all lost." Samandriel admitted.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Why don't I remember anything?" he asked. Crowley sighed annoyed behind him but Samandriel continued.

"Because of how traumatic the war was you forgot everything."

He frowned again. Samandriel could tell that he was losing the strange placid peace that had up until now had seemed permanent.

"Why can't I remember." he shouted frustrated. He raised he good hand to his head almost as if he could pull the memories from inside him. Samandriel realized that he wasn't asking him but asking himself. He curled up protectively drawing his intact leg up into the chair. He looked small and defenseless. It was surreal. Samandriel had never seen his brother behave that way, then again he had never seen his brother this venerable before. Michael had always been a symbol of what all angels should aspire to be, strong, loyal, and resolute.

Samandriel reached for his hand Michael's pale blue eyes shot towards his.

"It hurts." he admitted it was almost a question. Why did it have to hurt?

"I know." he replied wishing that he could alleviate his pain. This Michael was very different from the man he once knew but he was no less extraordinary. Part of him had always been drawn to this man. Once upon a time he had wanted to be like him. There had always been great stories of his imprisonment of Lucifer and his loyalty to god. Then as time passed he had wanted to be with him. a crush had always seemed a pale word for the way he felt and yet he knew it could ever only be a crush, the weight of his unrequited feeling crushed him. He did not truly know Michael so it could be nothing more than adoration. Even if things were different Michael could not stoop so low as to ever care for a lowly angel like himself.

"Why is he here?" he asked suddenly hostile gesturing towards Crowley.

"Why indeed?" the demon complained to himself. Turning from them annoyed. It was obvious that he felt that this was an exercise in futility, but Samandriel knew better. He could save Michael and together they could save to world.

He would do anything to make sure that it happened.

"Because the world ended when we lost the war, and we need all the help we can get."

He glanced back to see Crowley's face. He was just as surprised by his words as Michael was.

"I will be right back." he vowed softly to Michael. The man nodded slightly he seemed to have lapsed back into his thoughtful silence. Samandriel indicated with a nod of his head that he wanted to speak with him. It was obviously the demon's curiosity that ultimately made him give in a follow him.

They stood on the other side of the door just as before. Just as before he stood there was the intention of making a deal.

"I want to make a deal." he told the demon. Crowley quirked a brow before commenting snidely

"You’re just full of surprises today."

"Yes, and will you make the deal?" he wondered.

Something crossed the demon's face. He became more guarded

"Depends on what you intend."

"I want to help Michael."

"What’s the phrase? People in hell want ice water."

Samandriel scowled but continued.

"I know if given time alone with I could reach him." he insisted.

"Not going to happen darling."

"Please." He begged

He closed his eyes knowing that as soon as he said these words he would regret them.

“I will take whatever deal you want in exchange for this indulgence."

He could tell he had the demon's interest now. His eyes widened and there was a slight intake of breath.

"Dangerous words." he told him his tone had changed there was an edge to his words. He left himself vulnerable to a known sadist and the king of hell, but seeing Michael there weakened and in need of protection for the first time in his existence Samandriel knew what he had to do. He would protect Michael the only way he could, by making a deal. He was expendable but Michael was not and if he could salvage a tiny bit of the man the angel once was then all of it would be worth it.

"You would agree to anything I ask?" he wondered

Samandriel tensed before looking the demon straight in his eyes, rather than demonic black they were brown but still equally as cunning and manipulative.

“Yes, if my demands are equally met.”

Crowley grinned and it made his stomach unsettled.

“I’ll draw up a standard contract.” He continued

“Contract?” Samandriel wondered.

“Until now we have been playing by minor league rules, but this needs careful negotiation.”

There was a nervous pit in the middle of his stomach, he was unsure what the demon wanted but he feared the worst. Still he had lived through years of torture. He could stand to live through more.

“What is it that you want?”

“You.” Crowley admitted. “There is something ineffable about you that I can’t deny, and while this may not be entirely conventional I don’t care.”

“In exchange for your desires I get mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Dean both had the opportunity to take advantage of someone who was vulnerable. Consensual slavery is a big part of BDSM in the next chapter or the one after it I will show both Samandriel and Castiel enter into an imitation of consensual slavery. What is lacking with Crowley is the genuine informed consent since Samandriel was manipulated into accepting. While I may portray that he enjoys it to a degree don’t romanticize it as a healthy BDSM relationship on the off chance that I can’t convey it enough though the chapters.  
> I’m trying to have a better relationship with Cas and Dean so I’m taking it slow not trying to rush an innocent virgin into a situation he isn’t emotionally ready for like he was a person I was trying to have sex with myself so that’s why it’s been a slow build but I hope that we are getting close. Be patient. Here’s hoping I don’t fuck it up.


	13. The best of us can find happiness in misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andro-skoliosexual is a combination of androsexual anyone who has sexual feelings towards males and Skoliosexual describes a potential sexual attraction to non-binary identified individuals. I use this because Samandriel and Crowley technically are neutral genders and their bodies are only incidentally male because of vessels. With Crowley at least we have canonically seen him switch genders and still have sex. possibly with men and women but with at least one.

“So when does your master come back, and shove you back in your box?” Dean asked they were still sprawled on the pallet on the floor. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it was likely morning. Dean had traded nudity for jeans and black- T. He’d even convinced Max to trade his harness for a pair of light grey sweatpants but he said he didn’t want more than that. Pungent smoke surrounded them. Max took another drag on his rainbow stripped glass pipe, holding his breath as he inhaled the pale smoke before releasing with a series of sharp coughs.

“That’s a petty little dig.” Max commented.

Since demons didn’t sleep it was usually the middle of the night when both Sam and Cas were sleeping that he got the loneliest. For tonight, at least Max was there to keep him company. They talked for someone who was so close to Crowley he was alright.   As far as he could tell Castiel hadn’t left his room so he wasn’t interested on taking him up on his offer. Which disappointed him but also made him feel slightly relieved. If he had pressed the man before it would have been rape, and he wasn’t that much of an asshole. He needed to focus on the end of the world business. He should be trying to figure out what happened so he could take Castiel home and be rid of him. Max turned to him offering the pipe.

He didn’t usually partake but since life didn’t offer anything else diverting. Dean accepted the pipe and lighter. Thoughtfully he nodded. Yeah it was a bit petty, but it still bothered him what Max said about him belonging to Crowley. The little nugget of weed had died forcing him to relight the pipe. Dean wasn’t exactly well versed in the process of smoking from a pipe. He had smoked a few joints behind the gym during high school but that was the extent of his knowledge and even then it had been just a hit or two because he had been afraid his dad might find out not to mention he was more interested in the cute girls smoking then the actual drug. It might have to do with how drunk he still was but he was all thumbs. Max laughed. Taking the pipe from his hands and lighting it with ease. Rather than hand the pipe back to him he inhaled deeply sucking in the smoke before grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him in Dean easily surmised what came next as their lips just touched Max gently blew the smoke in his mouth he inhaled the smoke it burned all the way through his body he pulled back from the almost kiss coughing painfully.

Max laughed. Leaning back again. “Where did that other guy and girl go?” Max wondered.

“Sammy?” Dean wondered taking a drink from his nearly empty bottle to soothe the burn.

Max nodded. “I guess yeah” he agreed.

Dean shrugged. “I assume they went to fuck somewhere.”

“I’m glad you were so concerned for my safety.” Sam muttered. He looked like he had spent the night at a whore house. He had that loose limbed walk of someone who had spent the better part of the night screwing, his hair was a mess his eyes blood shot but there was also a glow about him that Dean actually found slightly troubling. Ruby limped in behind him. She also looked a hot mess. Wearing one of Sam’s button up plaid shirts as a dress. Her hair tangled about her head and eyes rimmed with worn eyeliner her right arm bandaged. Sam had fed off of her. Dean had almost forgotten about how dangerous Sam was with all the bonding they had been having lately. Sam must have caught him looking because his eyes widened and he quickly hurried towards the kitchen.

“I’m gonna make some coffee did you want any?”

“Yeah.” He agreed as slowly standing “Make mine Irish.” He shouted out as he watched Sam leave. “Isn’t that a bit redundant?” he asked gesturing to the bottle at his side. Still he nodded.

Once Sam was gone he quickly made his way over to Ruby.

“What’s your plan?” Dean demanding. She was leaning against the wall. She quirked a brow at him but sneered as she spoke.

“Like you care.” She shot back flippantly

“Sam is my brother, and I do care, what do you want with him, you black eyed bitch?”

Her eyes flashed black swallowing the white sclera of her eyes until they were as black as her soul.

“You’re one to talk. You got the same black eyes.” she insisted and as she spoke he felt the blackness bleed into his eyes.

“I just call them like I see them, and things are coming back to me now. The year before I died, you were dicking Sam around about saving me but all along you were setting up the apocalypse. So yeah, what do you want with my brother?” He growled the last words and was rewarded when she flinched away from him slightly. He could feel the Mark whispering in his ears. He could easily rip her apart with his bare hands, bathe in her blood. The Mark would relish it.

“Dean?” Sam called out sharply. He was holding two steaming mugs of coffee. His judgy look on his face.

Dean pulled away from her turning back to his brother when a grin, it made sense that he wouldn’t appreciate him threatening his main squeeze. Sam however surprised him.

“Is the universe falling apart?” he asked

Dean hesitated just a fraction of a second before answering Sam deserved to know the truth.

“Yeah.” He admitted. He felt Ruby tense behind him. She hadn’t thought he would tell the truth.

The tension eased slightly in Sam’s shoulders. He seemed to have shifted gears he handed Dean his coffee. Dean took a sip it burned all the way down but not in the way he expected.

“Where’s the whiskey?” he asked.

“I think you can stand to dry out a little.”

Sam commented acerbically also taking his bottle.

Dean scowled but rather then press the matter he shrugged.

“Ok, but if the cumulative hangover kills me, my death is on your hands.”

His joke missed the mark as Sam continued to stare at him. He wanted answers and Dean was going to give them to him.

“Now tell me what you know.” Sam demanded. “Not in front of her.” he insisted gesturing to Ruby.

“Damn, why is this situation so eerily familiar?” She muttered snidely.

“If I remember it right I had a point.” He continued.

She glared at him. Dean fought the childish impulse to stick his tongue out at her.

“Fine, I could use a shower.” She spat out walking away. Little finger tip bruises along the backs of her thighs. Dean immediately felt bad for looking.

“I think it’s fair that we make this just between us.” Sam continued Dean glanced over to the pallet where Max was taking another hit off his pipe already ignoring them.

“Yeah I think we’re good.”

Sam shrugged. “So the universe is ending?”

“Someone altered the past.”

“The apocalypse?” Sam asked

“Best guess, yeah.”

“How do we change it back?” Sam wondered.

Dean sighed it had never really thought about it, but of course Sammy would wanna change the past.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s not that easy.” He admitted. Even if they could undo what was done there really wasn’t any proof that that would fix things.

“First we gotta figure out what they changed.”

“But we _are_ gonna change it back right…?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean was torn. Between telling the truth and lying to save face with Sam.

Who knew how different his life might be if the apocalypse never happened. It made sense that Sam didn’t want it to happen, the end of the world hadn’t really done him any favors, but Dean was a powerful demon with the world at his feet. Yeah that world was a scorched wasteland, but it was better than the alternative. Or at least what he assumed the alternative would be, dead or powerless.

He didn’t really believe that the apocalypse was truly avertable. Lucifer was inevitable and Sam couldn’t be strong enough to endure him.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Of course.” He continued Sammy relaxed.

“How did you first realize things were different?”

***

“Visions.” He heard Dean reply. Castiel stayed frozen where he stood. “Of what?” Sam asked him. There was stiff hesitation from Dean.

“Of Castiel.” he continued. Castiel felt his heart skip a beat. After the orgy he had been too emotionally distracted he hadn’t really thought about the strange vision he had. If he was being honest he hadn’t even been sure it was real. He had been distracted by his growing desire for Dean. In fact, after Dean left he had come to a decision.

“Of you.” Dean continued. Castiel assumed he was speaking to his brother.

“What were they like?” Sam asked. “Was it like my visions of the future?” Sam wondered.

“No, it was an alternative reality.” He continued. “That’s good if we can figure out what is different in that reality we might be able to find out what changed.”

“I wasn’t a demon.” Dean admitted. “That is definitely something.” Sam insisted he sounded hopeful.

“And Cas was an angel.” He continued.

“An angel?” Sam gasped. “How is that possible?” “We don’t know.” Dean admitted his tone sounded even less enthused then before.

An angel… the words echoed in his mind. He was an angel. There was something on the edges of his memory some kind of information there. He tried to access it, and it slid away he pushed further. White spots danced across his vision. The room spun crazily around him he caught himself on the wall. He could feel it, there was something he should know just beyond the recesses of his mind. He felt something wet run down his face. Angels are not born… the words echoed in his mind over and over. A spiral whirling through him. All the blood drained out of his face. An angel…. The floor rose up to meet him.

He woke on his back a shirtless man kneeling over him.

“You passed out.” It wasn’t Dean or Sam but the other man. His head ached more than he thought was physically possible. “What happened?” He remembered leaving his bedroom. On his way to talk to Dean. He had made a decision. “You’re bleeding.” The other man commented matter of fact. Castiel reached up gently touching his nose. His fingertips came back red with blood. “Where is Dean?” Castiel asked. The man shrugged. Remaining silent. Castiel found his intense gaze and lack of a response troubling.

“Must you be so close?” he demanded. The man was crouched over him very close. His eyes were rimmed with black makeup he smelled like smoke.

“No” he admitted but he didn’t move he was studying him. “I get what he sees in you.” He replied quietly.

Castiel swallowed heavily. Uncomfortable. He didn’t know this man or his possible intentions.

A smile slid across his face. “You think I’m going to hurt you?” he muttered tilting his head to the side still studying him. His tone held mirth but was not without threat.

“Cas?” Dean called out from somewhere behind them.

“I thought you didn’t know where he was.” Castiel asked

He shrugged again before slowly straightening and turning his back towards him and walking away.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of their strange conversation

“Found him.” Max informed him as he sauntered into the room. Dean had not realized the man had even left. One moment he had been lounging smoking on the pallet the next he was walking back into the room.

A prickle of unease went through him. What had he been doing?

“I’m going out for a bit. I tried to raid your fridge but it’s empty.” Dean relaxed slightly.

He just had the munchies.

Sam had left to ruminate over everything he already had a few ideas on the subject but first Dean knew he was joining Ruby in the shower, and he couldn’t blame him she was a hot piece of ass. Even if she was a stone cold bitch

“Do what you gotta do.” Dean agreed.

As soon as the words left his mouth he was gone.

A moment or two later Castiel entered the room. There was an odd mystified look on his face as he shuffled in. He seemed confused. A strange feeling squirmed in his stomach.

Cas was bleeding. He closed the distance between them quickly. He cupped the man’s chin tilting his head back.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t know…” he answered excruciatingly slow. “I think I fell.” He responded quietly.

It was then when his body became away how close they were. Castiel must have also noticed because the man begun to blush. Dean wiped away the blood with his shirtsleeve he could wash it later.

“Listen about last night…” Dean begun Cas seemed like he was going to say something but he cut him off.

“It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you like I did. I’m sorry.”

Dean pulled away realizing that he was still closer than necessary.

“You’re sorry?” He asked watching him.

Dean shrugged. “You won’t hear me say it twice, but yeah I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve got excuses. The mark on my arm makes me do demonic things blah blah blah.” He continued raising his arm so that Cas could see the mark.

“But still I know better than that.”

“Iwanttowatch.” Castiel said quickly the words jumbling into one word interrupting him. Dean wasn’t sure he understood.

“What?” Castiel looked nervous.

“I’m in hell Dean.” He continued. “My whole life I ignored this part of myself so that I wouldn’t go to hell, and yet here I am.” He insisted seeming to catch his rhythm. Extending his arms out as if to encompass the entire concept.

“I want to know what I was missing.” He finally insisted. “What are you asking?” Dean wondered.

“I’m not saying you were right, pushing me.” He insisted. “That was… intense… exciting... traumatic.” Cas looked away unsure.

“But it made me decide something.” Cas continued he seemed firm in his resolve.

“I want to watch.” Those few precious words music to his ears.

“On my terms.” He insisted before Dean could open his mouth.   Dean nodded.

“And…” His voice faltered slightly. “…If I want to go further it will also be on my terms.”

Dean nodded. He could do that. “What’s the first term?” he wondered trying to see how far the human had planned it out.

“No drinking.” Dean scowled, before finally nodding. He could be sober. Really. It was possible after all, just because he hadn’t been in… years… didn’t mean he couldn’t.

“Ok…” he grinned. “Sam actually beat you to that on haven’t had a drink in what half an hour.”

He continued flippantly. “What else?” He wondered.

The next one seemed to make him nervous.

“I want…” he begun softly. “What is it that you want?”

“I want to know everything.” Dean smirked. “Honey, everything is a wide category.” He continued and he was sure that his expression was a bit judgy. “You’re not ready.”

“And that…” he insisted Dean frowned “What?” “You act as if you are better than me because you’ve experienced more. It is not up to you to decide when I am ready it is up to me.”

Castiel’s words sunk in. “Aye aye then.” he agreed with a cheeky grin.

“Do you get to pick when and where I have sex?” Castiel balked. Shaking his head. “Do you pick who I have sex with?” Castiel opened his mouth to object. “Other than yourself that is?” Cas shook his head. “Is it wrong of me to assume you would rather see me with guys?”

Castiel reddened a little before continuing. “Your assumption is not inaccurate.”

“You wanna watch me fuck... be my guest, but if I’m gonna be your private sex show I think it is only fair that I get something in exchange.” Castiel balked again. The expression on his face was eerily close to the one he wore when they made their deal. He hadn’t expected a counter proposal and it flustered him. He was tempted to press again to make him promise to only cum in front of him. He wanted to rush forward, but he wouldn’t. There’s was a delicate dance.

“Promise to tell me what parts you like.”

There it was again that smile. It always seemed to be his undoing Castiel nodded.

“Are we making this deal official or just between us?” he asked letting Cas decide.

It was clear the man was hesitating. “You can make it official at any time if you’re not sure.”

“I would rather wait then.” Dean nodded.

The vison was completely unprompted. The pain that normally precipitated a vison did not occur.

Suddenly his vision changed. He no longer saw Castiel instead he found himself in a sterile environment. He was in a hospital with seafoam green walls. Bright light streaming in from the window. Sam was beside him and another man in a wheelchair was also in the room looking out the window.

Suddenly a very different Castiel approached him.

“I don't have much time.” he insisted abruptly “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” He found himself saying confused. Castile rushed forward

“Your plan to kill Lucifer.”

“Yeah. You want to help?” he asked a bit angry.

“No. It's foolish. It can't be done.” Castiel dismissed.

“Oh. Thanks for the support.” He muttered sarcastically

“But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.”

“Who's that?” Sam wondered hesitantly.

“The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.”

Dean glanced skeptically over at his brother “I'm gonna find God.” He finished arrogantly.

He closed the hospital room door and turned back to Castiel trying to understand what the crazy angel was talking about.

There was still a bit of confusion about what their relationship was. Cas had helped him with escaping the room and finding Sam but Lucifer still rose.

“God?” He asked disbelievingly he knew he was giving a bit of sass but he didn’t care. Cas deserved it. The man had a stick up his ass, and not in the fun way.

“Yes.” Castiel firmly replied.

“God.”

“Yes! Castiel continued obviously frustrated but his lack of enthusiasm. “He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.” He was hopeful

“Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.” He remarked he was done with this. God either didn’t exist or didn’t care.

“No, he's not on any flatbread.” He continued blissfully unaware of his sarcasm.

“Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—

“He is out there, Dean.” He truly believed it.

“—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. “He finished viciously

Castiel glared.

“I mean, look around you, man.” He stared angrily warming to his topic. There was plenty of fucked up shit in this world and now there was Lucifer too. “The world is in the toilet. We are literally—

—at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?”

“Enough.” He growled. “This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.”

“It's a pipe dream, Cas.” He maintained

Castiel advanced on Dean

“I killed two angels this week.” Castiel ground out through clenched teeth. “My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you,” he felt the thrill run through maybe there was more there than he thought then it was immediately quashed “and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world” he was angry at him.

Sam looked down. Dean was again overwhelm with the feelings of failure. He let everyone down. Sam, Cas the world.

“—and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.”

Dean opened his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry he could barely see. His head hurt more than he ever thought possible. The light caused spears of pain to rip through him. Every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he had been literally torn from one universe into another. He was on the floor. He could see Castiel above him. There was real worry on his face it would almost be touching if not for the fact that he felt like he was dying. At the moment he would almost take a Hellhound ripping him to pieces than this. He felt something trickle down his face, but the sensation was lost when he felt the overwhelming urge to purge his stomach. He was just barely able to turn as he retched sending vomit all over the floor rather than himself.

He was gasping for breath against the pain.

“What happened?” Castiel asked concerned.

“Nothing.” He growled tensing as the effort it took to force the words out of him caused him even more pain.

“Get out of here.” Dean insisted. And for once rather than argue with him Castiel retreated.

Dean stumbled towards the bathroom. He felt something roll down his neck.

His vison was still blurry but he inched his way along the hallway.

Once in the bathroom he shuddered at his reflection no wonder Castiel was freaked out.

He was bleeding from his eyes his nose and his ears. He looked like a fucking mess. This had to stop. He wasn’t sure if it was possible but he was getting the impression that these visions might kill him.

 

***

They remained in Crowley’s bedroom but the entire aura felt different. The man before him was serious. Almost to the point of solemn. He sat behind the desk a drink next to his hand abandoned. It had taken him only a matter of moments to gather the papers laid before him. This was not an entirely new experience for him. Then again why should it? Crowley was the originally the king of the crossroads. The man knew how to make a deal. However the black bound bundle of papers in front of him more closely resembled a book then any deal he had ever experienced.

“Feel free to read it all…” Crowley insisted “We have time.”

Anxiously Samandriel opened the first page. In bold black extravagantly gothic script the words master/slave contract was printed across the page below it were two lines with the words “master” and “slave” the lines filled in by Crowley’s and his names respectively. This wasn’t an idea sprung from the ether it had taken time, and it was crafted with him in mind.

He swallowed heavily before continuing to the next page.

It was a table of contents.

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

**Term... #**

Goals

_Additional rules. #_

_Respect. #_

_Rights of the Master. #_

Responsibilities of the master. #

Availability of the slave

_Slave’s behavior._ #

**COMMUNICATION. #**

responsibilities OF SLAVE. #

AREAS OF CONTROL. #

_Slaves veto power. #_

_Terms of Exclusivity. #_

_Play activities ................................................................................................................................................................................. #_

_Limits. #_

_Safewords................................................................................................................................................................................... #_

_Punishments................................................................................................................................................................................... #_

Safety & compliance with laws. #

**Collars & name for slave. #**

Confidentiality . #

alteration of contract. #

Termination. #

Necessary declarations, Explanations &Executions……………………………………………...#

 

The details were meticulously laid out he turned towards the next page. Crowley interrupted him.

“I understand that you would require restrictions such as a time limit. I believe that two weeks would be an equitable start with possibility for renewal if you still feel that the deal is necessary.”

Saamandriel continued reading.

Slave's Role

The slave agrees to submit completely to the master in all ways. There are no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which the slave may willfully refuse to obey the directive of the master without risking punishment, except in situations where the slave's veto (see section 1.0.1) applies. The slave also agrees that, once entered into the Slavery Contract, their body belongs to their master to be used as seen fit, within the guidelines defined herein. All of the slave's possessions likewise belong to the master, including all assets, finances, and material goods, to do with as they see fit. The slave agrees to please the master to the best of their ability, in that they now exist solely for the pleasure of said master.

Samandriel glanced up to meet Crowley’s face. The man was studying him. His hand cradling his chin his fingers splayed across his cheek. He was watching him carefully his eyes narrowed. He expected him to back down. It was clear by the hardened expression on his face. This was not going to be an easy experience for him.

He flipped through the contract until he arrived at the play activities page. It read like a chart. Activities broken up into the following categories. Sex related, Bondage, S&M, Fetish, Power play, Role play, Bondage toys, and S&M toys. The chart consisted of the actions and several response options. Yes, no, maybe, don’t understand, N/A, only with master, soft limit, hard limit there was also a portion where one could volunteer experience with items.

“Naturally some of those may not apply to you.” Crowley added. He assumed he meant items like breast and pussy torture would not apply to him.

“What is this?” Samandriel demanded. “A Checklist.” Crowley replied unflinchingly

“For what?” Samandriel asked studying the list of sexual activities.

“Don’t be coy, darling.” Crowley insisted “We both know what I want from you.”

“This is so there is no miscommunication between us.”

Samandriel felt a twinge of some unnamable emotion slide through him. He was not a virgin despite what some might believe. Still his lack of experience in this area was showing.

“I am not a virgin.” He blurted.

“Neither am I” Crowley agreed. “That is by no means a requirement.”

Samandriel balked

“I have no experience with… he floundered at a loss for words.

“Submission.” Crowley supplied. He nodded “Yes,”

“I imagined as such also not a requirement.”

He recognized some of the activities mostly the ones of a sexual nature. Others he could discern what the activities consisted of but wasn’t sure why someone would voluntarily subject themselves to such treatment or derive some amount of pleasure from it.

 

“I imagine you might have some questions.” Crowley mused. Samandriel was beginning to doubt his ability to comply. “Could I have an example?” he asked he was stalling. He knew it was true. He would agree to all of it whether he wanted to or not because he wanted to help Michael “Pick an activity.” Crowley continued. At a loss where to start Samandriel simply picked a word at random from the list stabbing the page with his finger. With a snap of his fingers the contract fluttered until another page appeared before him.

_The Mastert and the slave wish to engage in cock and ball play together in accordance with the terms as set out herein._

_Permitted elements_

_The Master may use any of the following CBT techniques on the slave: Circle all they apply_

_  
_

_Rope bondage Ball busting Bandage bondage Clamps Clips Electrostimulation Flogging_

_Pinching Sensation implements Sounding Spanking Squeezing Tickle torture Wax play_

_  
_

 

Samandriel swallowed heavily. Nervous. He defiantly knew what all those words meant on their own he was just unsure what they meant in conjunction.

“Would you like further examples?” Crowley asked watching him. He was waiting baiting him and yet he needed to know. He nodded. Crowley grinned taking the book from him and begun as if he was reading from the book.

“If the submissive is particularly interested in having his cock bound and immobilized.” Crowley’s eyes leapt to meet his as he spoke. He was no longer looking at the text and yet he continued carefully as if there really was a description written before him.

“The Master shall use a nine foot long braided nylon rope. They shall wrap the rope around the slaves’s cock several times whilst looping intermittently behind his balls. The coils shall be tight enough to stretch the genital skin away from the body but not too tight to constrict blood flow.”

It was strange listening to him talk so clinically and yet clearly aroused at the same time. There was a frim huskiness to his words that held him spellbound.

“The Master agrees to take care not to pinch the skin. A knot shall be used to tie the ends of the rope, leaving several feet of rope remaining.” Beside himself Samandriel was oddly curious. The way Crowley spoke seemed to emphasize the words making them seem someone how enticing.

“The Master may use any means of torture play with the slave’s erect and bound cock including on the head and shaft of the penis and the boy’s balls. They may use any sensation implement in their discretion including but not limited to light brushing and scouring. The Master has total control and absolute decision making power in what implements to use.”

Samandriel shuddered. Not sure why he was curious, to what that might feel like.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded.

“I like to be thorough” Crowley admitted.

“No why go through the motions? We both know what will come of this.”

“True.” Crowley conceded “But my way is more fun.” He smirked.  

“Yes Crowley, I will be your slave. You will have control over my body but in exchange I get five hours a day with Michael alone.”

Crowley raised a brow. “Would you like to take a closer examination over the possibilities?”

“What else could you do to me?” he demanded standing he walked away from the desk. It didn’t matter. What he said, for years Crowley had control over his body as a prisoner. He tortured him. He ripped into him. Now the only difference would be that he would get something out of it.

Crowley stood and crossed the room towards him. He gripped his shoulders tightly. “You will submit to me?”

There was something dark about the way he said it because he knew the answer. There was no doubt in his mind what he expected him to do.

“We came into this exchange unequal. This is your chance to balance the scales. In this your consent matters. As a slave you will give up any control to what I do to your body however I will adhere to the terms of this contract any right you deny me now I will not force upon you later.”

Samandriel narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

“You need not trust my word in the matter. As a demon I cannot deviate from the terms of a contract. Therefore I need you to take this seriously. If you are unfamiliar with any of the terms or would like a demonstration I can elucidate the portions of the contract concerned.”

Samandriel stared down at the list daunted by the size of it.

“In this instance it is better to admit ignorance than to solider through.” Crowley continued. He nodded chewing his lip he still wasn’t sure if this was just another power play or not. Then again perhaps this was the kind of power play he had desired all along. He supposed that he could just remove consent for ever action as a way to prevent Crowley from harming him.

Almost as if he could read his mind Crowley continued

“I recommend only declining what your truly find unacceptable and nothing more. This is a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Besides himself Samandriel scoffed. Crowley quirked a brow.

“Even if you disagree with beneficial you must agree that this deal only exists because you have something I want. If that were not the case there would be no reason for this to continue.”

“Why?” he demanded not understanding. “Why me?” “That is a question I also intend to get answers for.”

Samandriel chewed his lips again.

“You still have the option to decline if you find that you will be unable to fulfill your portion of the agreement.” He was angry. He was being manipulated to yet again surrendering a part of himself to this man.

“How can I truly consent with you machinations?” “You can’t” he conceded “but I am accustomed to making deals with a certain amount of leverage. I have the access you want and I am willing to accept conditional consent in exchange.”

“Our previous deal still stands.” He continued. “I cannot harm you for another…” he glanced at his watch. “Eleven hours… I suggest you make the most of your time.”

***

His confidence was a lie. He could not show weakness in this matter. It surprised him how much the sudden opportunity of the boys submission tempted him. He found himself savoring the possibilities rather than his normal reservation. This deal was still undecided and from a purely business perspective a poor deal. Michael was powerful but unstable unpredictable and giving the boy access to him could end badly. Not for him of course, he had an insurance policy, but the outcome was uncertain at best. Still the thought of Samandriel stripped bare for him caged and collared. Which reminded him.

“There are two items that I really must insist upon.” He demanded causing the boy to glance up from where he had been intently studying the list. Crowley was surprised thus far by his lack of questions. Until now he had been silently studiously examining the contract. “What?” he asked so innocently “The items will be indicated under the Power Play subsection.” He watched the boy’s finger skim down the list. His eyes widening. “Would those be a problem?” he asked evenly. Samandriel looked back up at him “Ch-chasity?” he asked hesitantly the same doomed hopefulness he constantly expressed. Crowley was tempted to leave him ignorant let him thing he would be safe them pounce, but he wanted to be as honest as possible with the angel. He doubted he would ever win his trust in the way he craved since he manipulated him here not to mention the years of torture, but there needed to be a modicum of trust between them and he drew the line.

“Sorry to disappoint, but we will have sex if you make this deal.” He let the words sink in he wanted to be perfectly clear in that. He had the freedom to say no. “And often.” He added as he watched the angel absorb his words. The hardened resolute countenance graced his face once more. The angel had never really believed differently once he saw the contract. “The chastity is less of a reprieve and more of a removal of privilege. Your body will be mine to touch not yours. I will have control over all of its needs. Samandriel’s normally attractive mouth formed an ugly scowl. “And how is that different from my usual imprisonment?”

“Sexual release. It will be mine to deny or give” He clarified. A sheepish look crossed the angel’s face. “I will own your cock.” He continued crudely and was rewarded by a slight gasp.

“What if I…” he floundered. “Can’t” he finished lamely. Crowley nodded crossing his arms behind his back.

“Are you attracted to masculine, feminine, variant or neutral individuals?” Crowley asked calmly

After a pause he answered awkwardly “I am not attracted to femininity.” He admitted quietly feeling oddly exposed. He considered himself Andro-skoliosexual. As an angel he had no discernable gender outside of a vessel’s gender. Neither did demons. Some individuals identified more with their vessels than others, taking on that vessel’s gender as their own. Their sexuality remaining the same or varying depending on their experience. His current vessel being male had not influenced his attractions. Crowley nodded absorbing the information.

“Do you find my current vessel abhorrent? He asked.

Samandriel studied him. The answer was no he didn’t find him abhorrent, perhaps he had reservations but he wasn’t repelled by him at least not physically.

“No.” he continued reluctantly

“Then I imagine there won’t be a problem.” His words were self-possessed and confident bordering on hubris. In that moment he didn’t doubt that he was correct. His body would eventually betray him. Did he truly want to surrender his being to Crowley? Then again who was to say there really was a choice. He might refuse the contract then Crowley might force himself upon him. While he had not done so before now it did not mean he wouldn’t and he would lose his bargaining chip.

Something crossed the angel’s face he had made his decision.

“How many am I allowed to dismiss without penalty?” he asked

“Be honest. If you are disgusted or afraid decline. Set your limits. If you are unsure or ambivalent place it under soft limits. If at any point you discover an aversion for the activity we can amend your answers. If something intrigues you by all means reply with yes. I want to take you to the edges of your limits not beyond them. Despite how our arrangement might seem I am not trying to force you into an unlivable situation. I might be a sadist but eve I have limits.”

Samandriel found himself wondering what those might be. What was Crowley afraid of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting a copy of the checklist in another document it just felt like it broke things up too much including it in the document.


	14. The end of the road and my end. It justifies my means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to have the next chapter out soon so the sex can commence.

“The universe is ending?” Abaddon asked exasperated with an arched brow. Abaddon really was a demonic throwback, to a time when blood and bones was the perfect aesthetic appeal. She lounged in a chair literally made with the blood and bones of her enemies.   If she had her way she was going to decorate the armrests with Crowley and Dean Winchester’s skulls. Her nails were painted blood red and the same shade of lipstick graced her full mouth. She wore a PVC wetlook Lace up Catsuit and leather boots. He easily understood why hoards have thrown themselves at her feet and kissed her boots. Still this was the part that always made Jason nervous. If anyone was going to kill the messenger it was Abaddon.

“I overheard Dean and his brother talking about it.”

She clenched her fists at the mention of Dean, it was actually kind of funny since he wasn’t dean, but Abaddon constantly seemed torn between wanting to kill him or fuck him or some weird combo of the two. Perhaps fuck him to death? Or kill him and then fuck him? He was never too sure.

“I thought you were watching Crowley?” she snapped annoyed. She was constantly annoyed. Even when he had his head between her thighs servicing her she was annoyed that he hadn’t made her cum yet.

He didn’t exactly want to get into the specifics of that. He hadn’t really explained to her how he was able to get close to Crowley and he didn’t want her knowing that he and Dean had sex.

“Crowley took me to a meeting with Dean.”

She nodded tapping her bright red nail against her lips. Her fiery red hair spread out around her face. It was a testament to her temperament.

“Then obviously you have earned his trust enough to attack.” She nearly whined. She wanted blood, she was cunning but she craved murder and mayhem almost to the point where she lacked finesse.

“Yes.” He agreed because ultimately she was in charge even if occasionally he tried to direct things a certain way.

“But I feel we have more to gain by waiting.”

She was out of the chair faster than he could track and he was looking up at her from the floor. She had backhanded him viciously across the face and cheek felt like it was on fire pain radiating in every direction.

“Who asked you?” She demanded.

“I’m sorry mistress.” He insisted groveling, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Honestly he used his submission as a survival tactic. He didn’t submit to her any more than he had to Crowley. It was an act, but you stroke enough egos and the rest is sure to follow.

She kneeled brining her face closer to his.

“What else do you know?” she demanded.

He hesitated he wasn’t sure how much was beneficial to tell her.

“They think it is Lucifer that he altered the timeline and forced the apocalypse.”

Something crossed her face and again made him wonder if she and Lucifer had sex, or maybe it was just hero worship of some kind.

He could tell she was calculating in her head thinking on what he had said.

“Fine if the world really is ending my victory over Crowley won’t be as poignant when I make him beg for death if we are all going to cease to exist shortly thereafter.”

He nodded and kissed her boot.

“Would you have me watch Dean or Crowley mistress?” he asked hoping she wouldn’t place him back with Crowley.

“Stay with Dean, find out what he knows about the end of the world and what is causing it, but don’t lose your connection with Crowley because when the time is right I want them both in my dungeon, begging for the torment to end.”

He nodded “Yes mistress.” Honestly Jason didn’t care much who won, as long as he was on the winning side. He would continue to play the field until he knew who was winning and pick a side and hope he didn’t get horrifically killed in the process.

***

Gabriel sat on the floor on his cell legs crossed arms resting on his knees palms open. He breathed in deeply before exhaling slowly. He was concentrating. He could feel the sweat break out on his brow from the concentrated effort of will. Angelic prisons were not just for the body, but the grace as well. They were meant to completely contain his powers inside their metaphysical walls. However, they weren’t designed with an archangel in mind. There were cracks in the warding. So small that a garden variety angel wouldn’t have any use for them. He could just barely eek a portion of his essence beyond the walls. He had spent years practicing. Even as it was he would only be able to swing one trip. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to succeed, but he didn’t have time to wait any longer. Lucifer was up to something, and he wasn’t wrong. Even through the prison walls Gabriel had felt the shifting. The ripples. Like the ripples in a pond the further they moved from the source the larger they grew until they dissipated entirely. The waves of distorted time crashing into this existence and this was the bit right before the end. His brother probably had his head too far up his own ass to notice, but Gabriel had a lot riding on this universe and didn’t really want to relocate.

The problem came when he had to pick a contact. The trip through the cage would be damn near impossible meaning he had a limited amount of time to do it and absolutely no time to waste, he needed someone who was both capable of helping him and who actually would.   The problem was the only person who could help him was probably still pissed about the time he killed his brother… repeatedly.

***

“Yes!” Ruby screamed as she came. Before that the only sounds had been the water from the shower and the slap of their wet bodies. He had her positioned in the corner of the shower and her face pressed against the wall. His arms positioned on either side of her head. Her back arched as she rocked back against him he came with the last shaking spasms of her body. Stepping back he hit the water off and pulled the condom off in one smooth motion.

“Don’t you think that is a little unnecessary?” Ruby commented acerbity.

Sam shook the wet stands of hair out of his face. “No.” he shot back dropping the condom in the trash.

Her hair wasn’t even fully wet. “What are we doing?” she asked her hand on her hip naked.

Sam took the dark blue the towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist.

“Fucking.” He commented back. She sighed. “Come on Sam, you had feelings for me once. You can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.” He grabbed a smaller hand towel and ran it quickly through his soaked hair. “Pretty sure all that went away when you stabbed me in the back for Lucifer.” He muttered snidely.  

“Crowely will come back for me.” She insisted.

“Good.” He ground out. When she didn’t respond he looked up she looked genuinely hurt by his word. Good he thought again spitefully. “You would let him take me back?” she asked. There was a bit of fear in her voice.

“Let? I’d hand you over myself.” “Screw you Sam Winchester.” She yelled before pulling back the shower curtain and starting the water again.

“Yeah? Give me half an hour.” He shot back walking from the bath room into the bedroom. He closed the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

“That was cold.” A voice goaded flippantly the man before him was lounging against the wall next to the nightstand. It had been years since he’d seen him but he would recognize that smug bastard anywhere.

“Loki?’ he asked astonished.

“Oh yeah, that old hat.” He continued waving off his words.

“It’s actually Gabriel, as in...”

“The archangel.” Sam surmised.

Gabriel grinned. “You always were quicker on the uptake then that meathead brother of yours.”

Sam glanced around the room for the angel blade he had taken it from Dean on the chance that Lucifer returned. Not that it would really have done any good that way.

“Looking for this?” he asked holding up the weapon.

Sam clenched his teeth. “What are you doing here Gabriel?”

“Besides enjoying the view?” he asked with a grin running his eyes along his naked torso suddenly he clamped his hand over his chest and his body flickered like a ghost. He wasn’t really here. He solidified and scowled at Sam.

“Listen Princess, I don’t really have time to waste I maybe…kind of need your help.” He continued waffling

Sam laughed “You need my help?” he shook his head. “That’s rich. you’re up shit creek without a paddle.” He finished firmly. Still the archangel didn’t take no for an answer and in his experience they rarely did.

“The Universe is at stake.” He insisted he was practically pleading.

“Yeah, and you killed my brother.”

“I brought him back didn’t I?” he nearly wined

Sam looked away, but ultimately he knew he couldn’t ignore him. If Gabriel knew something about the universe’s impending doom Sam needed him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ok I’ll explain… no it’s too long. I’ll sum up.” He seemed to step forward. He was very close to him and it amazed him small he was compared to him. He wasn’t as small as Ruby he was still a good four inches taller than her but Sam was still half a foot taller than him.

“I need you to prison break me out of heaven.”

“Come again?” Sam queried what he was saying was impossible.

“Hey what happened to the first time?” Gabriel continued lasciviously

Sam only glared. “I kid, sorry. You’re right this is serious.”

His tone shifted and he stood a little straighter all the mirth was gone from his face. It was the mystery spot all over again.

“Lucifer has me imprisoned in heaven, and I need you to perform one tinsy little spell to pull me out.”

“Why me?” Sam asked

Gabriel bit his lip, “Yeah… you’re not gonna like that part.”

“You’re Lucifer’s Vessel you’ve got loads of untapped potential Sammy…’

“Don’t call me that.”

“Jeez lighten up…” he insisted raising his hands in a defensive posture.

“As I was saying. As Lucifer’s vessel you’ve got the latent mojo to get this done, that and you’re the only one who would take my call.”

“Why should I trust you?” Sam demanded

“Pleeese, you’re smart enough to know better than that.” He posed almost with a bow arms to held out around him.

“I am still the Trickster.” He grinned widely

“but you’re also smart enough to know I am probably the only one with half a shot of beating Lucifer at his own game and setting the world right again.”

“What is it that I’ve got to do?” Sam asked.

Gabriel grin again “At a boy.” Sam just glared but the angel didn’t seem to take it to heart.

“This is a vial of my blood.” He insisted handing the small red cylinder to him. “Grisly I know, but blood has power,” he paused and looked him up and down before gesturing over him.

“As you obviously know.”

Sam tensed crossing his arms about himself. There it was again judgmental archangels.

He handed over a sheet of paper. “Here’s the spell,”

Sam glanced at it briefly. “This is a blood spell.” He murmured

“Uh duh…” Gabriel continued.

He held his arms forward shoulder length apart index fingers extended.

“Blood is drawn to blood. If it works properly and that is a big if...” He added with a waggle of his eyebrows. “It should painfully rip me out of prison and to you.” He brought his fingers together in front of him to touch in the middle.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Sam asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “There are infinite possible ways this can go wrong and only one infinitesimal chance of this going right so can’t really predict at this time.”

“What are you a magic eight ball?”

“I don’t know why don’t you shake me and see.” He taunted.

“What?” Sam asked bemused.

Gabriel shrugged again. “I’ve been locked away for what less than ten years your time?” he questioned. “Well it has been millennia in heaven, so what if my flirting is a little rusty? Sue me.”

Taken back Sam was unsure how to respond.

“But seriously be careful. The bond of blood can backfire. Using blood binds you to the intent and outcome of the magic work, in the spiritual sense.  Binding with blood magic is eternal and forever. Through lives and deaths and time upon time… The results of a blood-spells are stronger than a regular spells, for all those involved, for better or for worse. And time is of the essence”

After he spoke his image fluttered before vanishing.

“That wasn’t remotely ominous.” Sam muttered to himself.

“Are you ready to apologize?” Ruby called down the hallway.

It was then Sam realized he was still standing in the center of his room nearly naked angelic blood in his hand, with a demon on the way.

He turned and stashed the blood and spell in the top drawer of the dresser hoping that since the angel wasn’t actually there she wouldn’t sense him.

She paused when she entered the room her face shifting from expectant to curious. She felt something Sam stepped up towards her wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her towards him. She was similarly wrapped up in a towel.

She laughed as he kissed her neck.

“I’m sorry.” He insisted. Without conviction.

“I don’t think I forgive you yet.” She insisted.

“I think I can convince you.” He insisted slowly unwrapping the towel from around her.   He admired her curves, before hefting her easily in his arms and gently tossing her on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she demanded sharply, but it was staged he could see the desire in her eyes.

“Apologizing.” He insisted as he pulled her hips to the edge of the bed as he dropped to his knees.

She grinned like a cat ready to luxuriate in his tongue.

Sam knew that he couldn’t do the spell with her around… or Dean.

He trusted his brother but he was still a demon. That was going to be a problem. Additionally, he had gained some reign of freedom about Dean’s home but he knew that freedom was limited. He would not be able to leave. Meaning he would have to perform the spell here… in hell.

Lucifer didn’t know where he was meaning it was doubtful that Gabriel did either. So he had had no idea he would be sending himself straight to hell.

***

That hurt more than expected. Gabriel thought as he lay on the floor of his cell curled in the fetal position as he bled from every pore. Still he was able to contact Sam Winchester. He just hoped Sam handled the truth as well as he did the lie.

***

“That settles it then.” Crowley confirmed as he briefly trailed his eyes over the contract. He would read it later at his leisure. He had stated his conditions, anything else would be an added bonus. Once they signed the paperwork the angel would be his. He could see the boy hesitate, he let him, before he finally signed the page. A sense of relief went through him; he was surprised by it. Crowley added his own signature and tucked the contract neatly away in his desk. It would still need to be sealed with a kiss but that would come later.

The angel’s entire posture changed, he was stiff and afraid. He thought that Crowley would pounce and use him mercilessly… and perhaps one day he would but their first night together would not be it. He had been telling the truth when he said he wanted to push the boy not break him.

“I have some matters that I must attend to, go take your leave of Michael. Then shower and wait in my bedroom.” He seemed like he was going to object before he seemed to recall that he shouldn’t.

“Yes…” he agreed.

“Yes, Master.” Crowley corrected. Normally he had no preference on how his slaves addressed him yet for some reason he did with Samandriel.

The angel was briefly taken back he blinked rapidly before nodding.

“Yes, master.”

Crowley smiled, yes this would be fun.

Now off to see Dean Winchester.

***

Samandriel’s heart was heavy his stomach filled with anxious angry moths trying to eat their way out of his stomach. He left Crowley in the bed room as he walked into Michael’s room. His brother still sat in the chair staring off into the distance seemingly entranced by the pattern of the wallpaper.

His eyes swung to him as he entered the room. His eyes lit with slight recognition,

“Bright eyes.” He murmured softly as he smiled, and Samandriel wasn’t sure how to feel. He did this for him.

He flung himself across the room dropping to his knees his arms wrapping around his brother’s body his face pressed into his chest.

A startled Michael laid his good arm on his back. His body was cool.

“I will save you.” Samandriel swore. His face pressed into Michael he smelled of clean linen, antiseptic and Lilly of the Valley. He could hear his vessel’s heart beat beneath the thin layer of cloth.

Michael didn’t speak he simply caressed his back.

He was crying he could feel the tears spill from his eyes to fall against Michael’s chest.

“I know.” He whispered. Samandriel wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to but he chose to see it as he knew he would save him and was waiting.

Samandriel knew he could do anything for him. Michael was their leader he was indispensable.

“I have to go again.” He insisted as he stood slowly dashing away his tears.

Michael was watching him his expression unreadable somewhere between curious and sad.

“I will be back, probably tomorrow.” Samandriel tried not to let the uncertainty show. He had a deal five hours a day, but he still wasn’t sure the demon would comply. Angel’s rarely made deals with devils and when they did, they usually betrayed the demons preemptively.

***

Jason was trying to find a way to tell Crowley he wanted out. They were demons the contract they had together had several ways out; it wasn’t a matter of negotiation it was a matter of maintaining the connecting. The joys of being a spy. The second thing he needed was Dean Winchester. He needed to appeal to the man’s white knight syndrome. Tell him Crowley beat him. It was objectively true. He could leave out the part where he agreed to be a sex object. Part of him was actually surprised by how nervous he felt about the second stage of his plan. Dean Winchester, strangely he wanted the man, to like him not just fuck him into oblivion. Jason used sex as a weapon he had his entire existence even as a human, from what he could remember of it. It was nothing personal, never had been. Still his mind kept drifting back the that god damn candy bar. Why had he done it? What did it matter he reminded himself? He transported back to Dean’s personal hell. He wound up back in the library. The man must have a spell in place. While he had been masked and handcuffed he recalled exactly how to navigate back to the room where they had sex. What he discovered was less than pleasant. Blood and vomit. Something else was going on here then what he could see from the surface. First Cas was bleeding now this. He shrugged and went in search of something so that he could clean up this mess. It never hurt to be helpful, put that idea in someone’s head then it was easy to manipulate it. In the end he would get what he wanted.

***

Dean stepped out of the shower. Everything still ached, but he was already healing. Still was ready to start entertaining Castiel at the man’s earliest convenience. One of the perks of being a demon was also one of the drags. He had no idea what time it was. On earth time flowed in a predictable pattern. Time stretched and slowed dragging out differently here than it would on earth. Eventually the human wouldn’t even need to eat as often just like Sam. It wasn’t just the demonic blood keeping his brother from eating. The time was compressed meaning he wouldn’t be hungry for longer. While they woke up and slept several times since arriving it might have only been a few moments on earth. Which meant you could really just spend all day fucking… hell maybe all eternity. Eventually Cas would age but it would take much longer than their ten-year contract. Still they were also on a deadline while they had all the time in existence they really didn’t, because reality was unwinding. He pulled on black jeans and soft knit fabric light grey shirt and a black jacket. Not because it was cold, but because he liked the look.

Crowley was here, he could sense the invasion, luckily Max was back as well. One perk of being hell’s bitch was recognizing all of hell’s other bitches. He walked to Sam’s room. He could hear moaning in the background. He knocked quickly.

“Hey, not to ruin the private party but Crowley is here.”

The noises stopped so Dean was safe to assume that they got the message.

He walked quickly towards the library. He had a favor he wanted to ask Crowley and he wasn’t sure how the Demon was going to react to it or not.

“I want you to take my slave.” Crowley told him quietly his hands were clasped behind his back. He paced slightly as he spoke, over all it was uncharacteristic.

Dean paused first to wrap his head around the concept then secondly to try and decide on if it was a trap.

His intention had been to ask Crowley if Max could stay a while, he liked the man. He was attractive and very willing in bed… well he would double check with the man first, but so far he had been not only willing but enthusiast. So briefly he considered the idea that this might be a trap. His thoughts must have been easily readable

“Oh good lord man, this isn’t a trap.” Crowley muttered.

“I just have, a new slave.” He kept his tone devoid of emotion which likely meant there was more to it than he was letting on.

“So what? The puppy grew into a big dog and now you’re giving him away to a new owner.”

Crowley paused narrowing his eyes.

“A bit of an over simplification, but yes in a manner of speaking.”

Dean now found himself scowling.

“Did you wanna ask him first?” he wondered aghast

Crowley stared at him, “It is within my right to give him away. The contract we made was carefully negotiated. “If he ultimately objects he can dissolve the agreement. I’ll send you the information later. You would have to agree to his terms as well.”

“Ooookay.” He agreed seemed like everything was conveniently working out almost as if some higher power was trying to neatly forward the story along.

“I want Ruby to stay as well.” Sam insisted. His hair was still damp he wore a black v neck T-shirt and jeans.

Ruby too was dressed she had somehow fashioned one of Sam’s dress shirts into a dress. She stood slightly behind Sam.

Crowley cast a scathing glance towards Sam

“Please control your pet.” He sneered.

“I’m serious.” Sam insisted glancing quickly towards Dean.

He wanted him to back him up, defend his decision. He had got that look from Sam more than once in his life. Sam was playing an angle.

This put Dean in an uncertain position. Did he back his boss or his brother? On the one hand he did live to fuck with Crowley’s day and remind him he had no power over him. On the other hand, he did have power over him. The mark wouldn’t settle with sex forever… eventually he would need to kill again whether he wanted to or not. Crowley had the first blade. Still Sam was his brother. He had kept the man his prisoner for so long he had almost forgotten that, but he was remembering.

“He isn’t taking her.” Sam insisted looking at Dean.

Dean shrugged casually “You heard the giant. Looks like the lady’s staying a while.”

Crowley stared at him for a long time, maybe judging his commitment maybe sizing him up for an attack, either way he would never know because the demon relented.

“Fine, keep the whore, I was getting tired of her screams, but know I collect on my debts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what does everybody think so far?


	15. Let me clip your dirty wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the next two or maybe three chapters are gonna be kind of smutty. your welcome... I will return to the plot at some point after the fucking. Also like I said while Samandriel may not hate what Crowley does its definitely not a healthy S&M relationship.

Samandriel was waiting. His pulse was elevated, he was nervous. He had done as he was told and took a shower. It was going to be something that he would need to grow accustomed to. Following orders. He had soaped every millimeter of his body all the while knowing he would probably wish for another shower afterwards. He sold himself in exchange for the world. It was a small price to pay he would gladly sacrifice everything. However, when it came to the actual deed. He found himself profoundly nervous. One he was afraid what kind of sexual deviancy that Crowley intended to inflict upon him and two he was worried his body might betray him, he knew it was natural. The mortal body he inhabited might respond to the sensations. He might even find himself enjoying it. That didn’t negated his lack of true consent, it muddied the waters true, but coercion and consent are not the same never will be the same. His entire existence pain had been his secret pleasure. Not when Crowley tortured him, the lack of consent made the experience terrifying and brutal. The pain he had endured then pushed even his level of appreciation for pain, but all his life he had a casual affair with pain. Still he never truly experimented with a partner. He had clipped clothes pins to his skin, in the dead of the night. Poured melted wax over his thighs and chest locked alone in a bathroom. That was what scared him the most about their arrangement.

 Crowley would be the first man to introduce him to pain. Up until now none of his partners knew his secret and yet somehow Crowley must have sensed it. He wasn’t sure how, but why else choose him? Many things on the list frightened him with their extremity he had marked beatings and knife play as a hard limit. It was too close to the torture he had experienced and coming from the same man he didn’t believe he would not break. The same for the more violent or fear based scenarios breath control, punching or caning, interrogations or prison role play scenes fear play and yet it left a lot of room open for debate. He knew nothing about submission, but he knew he could not let Crowley break him again. True he served the wills of heaven but that was different. That was a cause, he was part of a team he wasn’t losing anything he was helping the world. This naked obedience was different. It wasn’t just his body he would be sacrificing but also his mind. He would surrender himself not to an ideology but to a single man. If it had been any other man he might have fully welcomed the idea, but Crowley gave him pause. He did not trust him. Could not trust him. Must never trust him. How could he give himself over to this man without trust?

The truth was he was scared, afraid that Crowley would take it too far because most of his nervousness came from unease at being placed in such a precarious position, but a small kernel came from excitement. That terrified him.

Crowley had not told him where he needed to wait so he pulled out the chair he sat in the other night and waited.

While he waited he thought, about Michael, about what Crowley might do to him. The waiting made him anxious, but he could only imagine that that was probably part of the point. Crowley also had not told him to strip so he remained clothed, it was a thin layer of protection and one he would easily remove if the Crowley asked him too. Crowley was gone hour and a half. He heard him at the door. His pulse shot into overdrive at the sound of the handle turning and the door opening. He showered and had changed. Which surprised him. He still wore a black tailored suit but his tie was a blood red. Samandriel knew he was staring. The tension was palpable as his eyes tracked him entering the room. Crowley was carrying a black bag. He walked past him and set it on the bed. He then removed his suit jacket slowly setting it aside on a coat rack.  Crowley had not spoken to him. Samandriael wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. It was making him antsy.

Crowley’s eyes finally turned to him.

“Stand up.” His tone was soft the command was clear, but not harsh. Samandriel did as he was told.

Crowley opened the black bag on the bed and removed something, he couldn’t quite make out what it was from this distance.

Crowley stepped closer.

It was a collar. Gleaming chrome plated steel.

“You will wear this until the end of our agreement.”  Samandriel nodded and then thought better of it.

“Yes master.” He muttered weakly. The words feeling strangely stolen from him.

“Turn.”

He did. The silver collar encircled his throat. It was heavy, it provided a nice weight and feel against his skin. At first it was cool to the touch but it slowly warmed to his skin. The rounded edges gave it an element of comfort keeping the metal from digging into his flesh. At the front of the collar dangled an O-ring.

He felt Crowley use the hex key to lock the collar in place.

“There will be no safe word… for tonight and tonight only.”

Fear galloped through him and yet he unsure nodded his assent. Crowley pulled him in quickly grabbing a handful of his hair at the back of his head causing a tingling of pain to crawl through him. The kiss surprised him.

Their lips met in a quick heated crush, he could feel the rasp of his stubble along his jaw before pulling away.

“Strip.” Crowley ordered quietly. Bewildered Samandriel nodded.

Removing his clothing a layer at a time. It wasn’t sexually charged at least he didn’t feel as if it was. Crowley was watching him but more as if he was assessing him versus, desiring him.

Crowley watched as the angel shed layers of clothing until he was simply in his skin.

He desired him, wanted the boy to suck his cock, or bend over for him, but this wasn’t about sex. This was about power.

Crowley pulled a pillow of the bed and set it on the floor beside the bed.

“Kneel.”

He commanded. He watched the angel move. He was thin perhaps too thin, which was his fault really. That and the paleness of his nearly translucent skin. His veins deep blue beneath the skin. He could see the scars he inflicted on the boy. The most recent angry red puckered scar on his thigh. He wanted to bite the delicate skin on the back of his neck.  Crowley walked past to boy to lounge on the bed. He saw him tense as he walked by and fought the urge to laugh. He spread himself out along the length of the bed. The angel was kneeling at the side of the bed far enough away that the distance seemed insurmountable, but close enough that he could make out his every expression when it came time for it.

Crowley removed his reading glasses from his pocket and the contract and begun to peruse it.

He could hear the angel’s breathing escalate. He wasn’t sure, and that confusion was adding to the expectancy.  

“Tell me what do you think about when you touch yourself”

Crowley ordered. As he begun to thumb through the contract.

“What?” He asked breathlessly.

Crowley briefly lowered the contract enough that he could meet the angel’s eyes across the room.  “Tell me what you think about when you touch your cock.”

“I…” the angel faltered.

“Tell the truth…” Crowley encouraged “If you don’t I will know and you won’t like the punishment for lying to me.”

“I imagine … he paused uncertainly there were two answers to this question.  He wanted to reveal neither answer to Crowley and yet, one was less painful to reveal than another. Pain and

Michael. Especially in his youth, but even now it was a vivid image that he had trouble forgetting the image of him on his knees sucking Michael’s cock the angel’s fist in his hair brutally forcing him down to the point he could barely breathe.  

Or pain the sting of hot candle wax against his skin. The pinch from clothespins or sometimes even safety pins. He couldn’t reveal the truth at least not fully so he tried for a half truth and he would simply suffer the consequences.

“a stranger.” He finally answered.

Crowley was watching him carefully his eyes narrowed if he didn’t believe him he gave now outward signs of it.

“Go on.” He commanded.

“I imagine I’m on my knees sucking them, they pull my hair.”

Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t finish the thought. Crowley bought his body not his mind. What right did he have to his personal thoughts.

He looked away. Refusing to meet the other man’s eyes.

“If you won’t tell me. Picture it now.” He demanded.

“I want you to touch yourself. Till completion.”

A wave of embarrassment went through him, but it would pass.

He wrapped his hand around his cock intending to finish it quickly and end this farce.

“Slowly.”  He amended

His eyes turned away from him to study the contract. Besides himself he couldn’t help but watch the other man. What was the point of him masturbating in front of him if the man wasn’t even watching?

Crowley was watching. Originally he had intended to give the angel’s contract a full perusal now and enjoy the moment but his mind would not follow the legal jargon he was normally so comfortable with.

He could see from the corner of his eye as the angel grew hard in his hand biting his own lip to keep from making any sound. Not wanting to fully give in to the pleasurable sensation. Not truly wanting to give in to him. He liked that about the angel. His submission had to be earned.

Crowley read the hard and soft limits specifically to see what he was not permitted focusing on seemingly ignoring the boy.

“Faster.”He insisted quietly.  A slight whimper escaped his Samandriel’s lips.

Crowley smiled to himself. More of a smirk really. Ignoring his own rapidly building desire and increased heart rate. He was in control of his reactions. He had to be.

“When was the last time you came?” he wondered aloud

He could see the man’s face redden.

“It was what maybe three days ago?” he prompted. Reveling in the startled look that crossed the angel’s face. He relished it.

“I know hell’s dungeon’s look positively medieval but I assure you each cell comes equipped with its own disguised camera.”

He was red faced in shame.

“Not that I blame you. If I was left alone in a cell as long as you I would never stop touching myself. It’s a biological need. Same a hunger and thirst. Did I say you could stop?”

He asked when he noticed the angel’s hand had stilled on his cock.

Worry crossed his face before he quickly ran his hand up and down his cock.

“I’ve watched you cum maybe a thousand times.” Crowley confessed. His eyes darting back to the boy to study him. He liked the way his skin moved as he stoked himself.  Across his chest… his arms his cock. The boy was circumcised and quite gifted for how thin he was. Perhaps it was a bit crude but he liked the little twink’s fat cock.

“Only this is the first time you knew it.” He continued.

“How does that make you feel?”

Samandriel was excited and ashamed by that fact. Left alone in his cell chained to the wall there had been little else to do for entertainment. The chains had always been loose enough and perhaps now he knew why.  Despite his better judgement he wondered what Crowley did while watching him. Did he touch himself as well or was it just as it was now his eyes watching yet somehow distant? Still assessing him for flaws in the way that made him want to be perfect. Wanting to please him somehow.

Something about the words oddly intrigued him. He glanced over back to Crowley. He could see that the demon was aroused. The strain against the front of his suit was prominent enough to know what it was.

He wasn’t sure what game the demon was playing yet at the sametime he wasn’t sure that he didn’t enjoy it.

The pleasure swirling in his stomach was building. He could feel it. He would cum soon.

 

Crowley stood and moved towards the angel unable to stay away any longer but rather than touch him he knelt down directly behind him. He could feel the body heat radiating off him. Smell the sweat on his smooth pale skin.

“I watched you stroke that fat cock of yours all the while knowing that it was for me.” A strangled groan escaped the boy.

“You didn’t know it, but I did. I’ve known that I wanted that fat cock of yours as my play thing ever since I first laid eyes on you. The skinny little angel with the fat cock screaming for mercy beneath me.”

He was panting now aroused by the speed of his hand against himself and the words.  

“I didn’t know how you would be mine but I knew it would happen.” He nearly growled behind him his voice gruff and tinged with need sending shivers up and down his spine.

The demon didn’t touch him and yet he was close enough he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He was so close he could taste it. His hand flying on his cock up and down the slap of skin his labored breathing and his soft restrained groans were the only sound filling the room. Then mere seconds away from pure bliss Crowley barked an impossible order.

“Don’t cum.” Crowley ordered his tone final

“What?” Samandriel gasped but it was too late spurts of cum shot up across his stomach coating his cock and his hand. His mind spiraled out of his body to hang in ecstatic bliss above him. Slowly allowing him to filter back into existence.

The collar felt heavier in his exhaustion. He moved to stand.

“Stay.” Crowley ordered coolly.

“What?” he asked again, still fogged by his orgasm.

 He was still right behind him the demon leaned in wrapping his forearm around his neck in a chokehold brining his back flush against the demon’s torso and bit his earlobe hard. Samandriel hissed in pain. The zing of pain shot through him sizzling across his nerves. An electric arc that tried valiantly to revive his flagging erection but it was beyond his physical capabilities.  

“I told you not to cum and you did.” He insisted.

“I couldn’t stop it.” He complained rationally not understanding the demon’s displeasure wasn’t that what he wanted.

“Doesn’t matter… don’t stop touching yourself. He insisted until you’re hard again.”

Samandriel flinched as his ran his hands over his now too sensitive cock.

His flaccid cock was slippery with his own cooling cum.

He felt rather than saw Crowley stand and moved away.

“I lied earlier.” Crowley stated his tone thoughtful.

A twinge of fear raced through him.

“What?” he asked again feeling like a laughing stock.

“Our first agreement was I couldn’t hurt you for 24 hours, we still have time and for the most part it is true. I can’t harm you. But I can allow you to experience pain.”

A strange range of emotions went through him. Vindication among them. Of course he couldn’t truly trust Crowley king of the Crossroads to keep his word.

“Why does that not surprise me that you lied?” Samandriel muttered disgusted

His righteous indignation ignoring the fact that only moments ago the man helped push him over the brink of orgasm with words alone.

Crowley laughed. “Oh don’t play the saint with me angel. I am not the only one who lied?”

“What?” he asked surprised.

“No experience with submission?” the demon chuckled. “I think we both know what a lie that is.” Samandriel frowned.  Not understanding the direction of his thoughts.

His cock was still soft in his hands as he stroked it. The surrealness of the situation hit him as absurd. He wanted to laugh or cry. His emotions felt bare as exposed nerves. His protective myelin sheath stripped bare interrupting the proper function. His skin felt like it was on fire and he could barely breath.

“Stand up.” Crowley ordered. When Samandriel was slow to action the demon grabbed him by arm and wrenched him to a standing position. Deftly he shoved him towards the bed forcing him to bend over the edge of the bed. His thighs pressed hard against the edge of the bed the demon pressing down on his shoulders as his hand firmly held him by the back of his neck. The action causing a zing of excitement to burst through him. His chest and stomach were pressed into the firmness of the mattress. His ass raised and exposed. His breathing hitched in his chest his heart beating into overdrive at his exposed position. He liked it. Dear god he actually like it. That sent another zing of fear through his heart. He felt Crowley’s other hand strangely gentle by comparison slightly caress his bare exposed ass. His cramped position left little room for him to touch himself his hand stilled trapped between his body and the bed.

Crowley removed his hand from his ass only to lean in to whisper in his ear his own cock pressed against his ass separated by a layer of cloth. The heat and weight of his body firmly pressing him into the mattress.  

“Did I say you could stop boy?” he demanded.

“I can’t” he insisted.

“Did I ask your opinion?”

Samandriel couldn’t get a steady rhythm from his position. He could only awkwardly tug on his cock the grip was off so was the tempo it was frustratingly slow and jagged.

The hand came from nowhere. The crack of skin against skin reverberating around the room

As Crowley’s slightly cupped hand cracked down against his ass. The sound was more intense than the pain ripples of stinging sensation radiated out from where his hand fell.

Beside himself he let out a startled moan.

The demon’s hand smoothed over his ass erasing the pain before just as suddenly swatting against him with less force simply warming the skin leaving him feeling uncertain and restless edgy.

he felt Crowley grab his ass massaging the cheeks rubbing firmly his finger skimming along the crack never moving between his cheeks only now and then firmly pulling them apart.

“The longer it takes you to get hard the more it will hurt.” He finally murmured after a few moments.

Strangely enough those words sent a spiral of desire through him on their own right.

He could hear the man moving away but didn’t dare stop touching himself or raise up from the bed to see where he went.

He knew when Crowley returned by the light swat against his right butt cheek. It didn’t hurt not really just the slight sting.

Then Crowley begun spanking him in earnest. His palm alternating from being cupped to flat. thuddy and stinging impacts. The pain building to a red hot bliss washing over him in waves. His hand still moved on his cock but he was nowhere close to coming. The pleasure was slight and the pain was overwhelming his senses.  

His ass was tingling, and not just his cheeks. He could feel the desire to be touched creeping in on him as he began to grow hard again. This he had experienced before. Spanking was not outside of the realms of vanilla experience. In the past he had a lover or two spank him, still it had never been like this.

Crowley moved away again after a moment he returned and ran a lubed finger along his crack gently smoothing the lube across his hole. He tensed both afraid and slightly excited.

Crowley chuckled. “No dear angel I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet.”

Samandriel knew the feeling in his chest could not be disappointment. It wasn’t possible.

“You’re putting a show on for me remember?”  Crowley insisted.

Samandriel was jerked upwards again and spun. In the spot where he had knelt was a black dildo suction cupped to the floor. It was medium sized nothing impossible and yet nothing had ever been in his ass. This vessel was meant to be temporary and it was quick. After the fall he was soon captured by Crowley. He wanted to explain to the demon but he was sure his words would fall on death ears.

“I want you to fuck yourself, while you stroke yourself.”  

Crowley sat on the bed watching the angel. His cock was achingly hard and he could feel precum gathering along the slit of his cockhead. He wanted to make the boy lick him clean, but he wouldn’t.

Samandriel’s hand never stilled on his cock… he was a good lad.

He crouched over the dildo. Absently Crowley tossed him the lube watching as he lubbed up the sex toy. He didn’t expect much from him at the moment. If he had sex in this body he imagined it was years ago so, he was letting the angel take his time. Crowley liked pain. Like the look of it on another person’s face the tenseness in their body, but he also didn’t truly want to harm the boy at least not currently. Perhaps it was the human blood he kept shooting himself up with. He was dry now. He couldn’t think when he was high and he wanted to be very present for this moment. He wanted to touch himself or make the boy do it. He wasn’t lying when he spoke to the angel about watching him in the past. This moment had seemed years in the making. He knew he wanted to boy but he never thought he would actually have him. The look of pain on ecstasy on his was enough to make him want to cum in his pants, but he had more control than that.  

The angel slowly lowered himself on to the fake cock. The same way he wanted him on his own. He imagined how hot and tight his ass would feel wrapped around him. As he rode him like he was slowly doing to the toy.

A ragged moan slipped out of the angel’s mouth. His breathing wavering as he gasped. He was slowly gaining momentum.

His breath kept catching in his throat. “Eheh eheh” a half restrained sound as he rocked on the cock biting his lip sliding down inch by inch as the toy filled him.   Crowley was torn his two baser side fighting for dominance. One part of him wanted to shove the boy down rip the toy out of his ass use his forearm as leverage and hold the angel down and fuck him the hard surface of the floor the only source of friction against Samandrieal’s cock. As Crowley fucked him hard and fast bareback till they both came. The other part wanted to whip the boy senseless. Until he was begging him to stop. Pretty tears running down his face. Revel in his pain.

Crowley stood moving towards the angel he could tell that he was building a rhythm because he didn’t notice Crowley’s approach. He was to focused on the slide of the fake cock in and out of his ass. The lubed sound and his moans the only noise in the room. his hand on his cock was moving faster now.  The moans were becoming too hard for him to hide. The sound filling the room. Crowley moved behind him. The angel tried to look over his shoulder at him.

“Keep your eyes ahead.” He ordered.

Slowly he unzipped his slacks. He hadn’t worn pants not wanting anything to get in the way. His cock was in his hand the pressure was familiar not the sensation he wanted, but he had two weeks to get his fill of the angel now wasn’t about that.   

He knelt down behind him watching as the toy disappeared faster and faster into the boy’s ass. His keening wails letting him know that he was getting close.

The desire to fuck from a pure primal need had never been so strong not in his entire existence as a demon likely even his human life. He wanted to be inside of the other man to penetrate and possess every part of him.

Crowley released his cock pulling his slacks back into place. He couldn’t give in.

“Fuuuuck…” the angel ground out panting almost there.

“Don’t cum.” He ordered his voice ragged and guttural.

The boy whimpered as he stilled, both his hand and his body.

His legs were shaking with the effort holding his body in the mid squat position.

“Did I say you could stop?” he asked quietly more in control of his tone.

The angel whimpered again unsure what to do. He moved against the toy first moaning low in his chest.

His touch was slow on his cock and feather soft. Knowing that any moment the string would fray and he would cum regardless of the orders.

“I want you…you know that.” The demon begun. “I want to slide my cock into your ass and pound you until you beg me to stop and keep fucking you till I cum over and over inside of you till you’re coved. Until you forget a time when you knew how to do anything else but beg for my cock.” He continued being purposefully crude.

Besides himself the angel came. Screaming loudly unable to stop it.

He crumpled to the floor his hands on both sides of his body.

the pain surprised him. The paddle wasn’t overly pain full as it cracked against his still stinging ass but he couldn’t move away from the pain his body limp. It was something thin and not meant to inflict real damage like bruising only the intense stinging pain.

 He grunted. “Uhgh, uhgh ugh” as each sound slipped from him so did another smack ring about the room, his ass was on fire. It was nothing compare to the torture he had undergone over the years at this man’s hands but it was also still painful. The spankings didn’t stop it was dizzying the endorphins swimming through his body. He felt tears come to his eyes. It was starting to hurt.

“Stop.” He found himself saying reflexively. When the pain didn’t stop he tried again squirming trying to move away but his limbs simply dead weight.

“Please stop.” He sobbed.

With one last resounding smack the spanking stops but the pain did not abate. He imagined his ass would be cherry red, but the marks would be gone by tomorrow.

He glanced over his shoulder the demon was still hard. Samandriel didn’t get it.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to know that I can bring you pleasure. And I can bring you pain. the choice is mine. You can only experience it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Crowley give Samandriel a Play collar in this mostly just cause i liked the aesthetic. I toyed with the idea of using a more formal collaring system for samandriel but I thought it wouldn’t really be a good representation of the community because if Crowley gave Samandriel a collar of consideration it really wasn’t fair because it wasn’t a real relationship. additionally I watched way too much porn trying to figure out how to write the next couple of chapters… next up Dean and Max/Jason and voyeur Cas.


	16. Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long for an update. I had a hard time getting this chapter the way i wanted it and it still didn't really go exactly as planed but hopefully it doesn't suck too bad.

Dean turned back towards his brother he wasn’t sure what Sammy wanted but he made his decision. When Crowley called Sam his pet a strange boiling rage coursed through him. He had almost forgotten during this exciting sexcapades that he was having that Cas wasn’t his only prisoner. The concept felt foreign to him now. Why would he keep his brother prisoner how could he even? And yet he was had been for years. It never bothered him before seeing Sammy in chains now the very idea pissed him off. He would like to see Crowley try. The threat was subtle but it was there. Well the King of Hell might collect on his debts but Dean Winchester protected his own and if they wanted Sammy they would have to come over his dead body. 

Dean rolled his neck and shoulders trying to relieve the tension there. The vision left him slightly on edge. If what he saw was true together he and his brother kicked off the apocalypse in the other universe. It really was inevitable, and no matter what he and his brother were tied to it. 

“You ok?” Sam asked watching him intensely 

The contact was making him skin sizzle.  It wasn’t Sam he reminded himself it was the mark. It saw him as threat. The mark narrowed his world until there were only prey and predator. It was the first time he realized how much he hated that. He used to think it was simple. Why had he enjoyed that?

“Yeah, just peachy.” He ground out. 

Sam was watching him he could tell that he didn’t quite believe him.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“I for one, want a dri…” he trailed off remembering his deal with Cas. 

“Damn.” He groused. 

Sam was watching him strangely. What else did he do to blow off steam? Honestly he couldn’t really remember. Once upon a time he remembered he used to drive, constantly, incessantly and yet as much as he did he never grew tired of it. Not really. Even when as a kid he’d been cooped up in the car so long he wanted to bash his little annoying brother’s head in. He never hated it. He was lucky. He knew Sam. Or at least he used to. Family meant something to him, that it didn’t mean to everyone else. Family was the only home he ever knew. The only constant in his life.  How had he let that feeling slip away from him?

He glanced over at this brother. There was something different about him Dean decided. He was drinking blood again that was the difference. His brain insisted. No… he reminded it. He never stopped drinking he was just drinking more. Dean had always limited his brother’s intake he hadn’t wanted him to gain strength and for whatever reason Ruby did. 

There was something different about him Sam realized.  There was an anxious tension running through him like a river. He knew it was the mark, but that was actually all he really knew about it. Dean had said he got the mark from Cain, the first murderer.  Sam didn’t think that it boded well for his brother.

If Gabriel really was able to stop the end of the world, start up the reboot then he could save Dean from the mark from being a demon… from all of it. He just needed to find a way to keep everyone out of his hair long enough to cast the spell. Keeping Ruby made things harder for him, but he really couldn’t justify handing her over to Crowley, he was still very angry with her and honestly at one point he wanted her dead. He would have killed her the night Lucifer rose, but now too many years had passed. Too much water under the bridge. His anger had cooled and it just left him feeling empty to keep holding on to it. 

Even his anger towards Gabriel wasn’t as high as he made it seem. The Trickster had shown him a glimpse into the future, the future without Dean. Everything he predicted came true. He let his anger and hate consume him. It drove him towards killing Lilith and his guilt and shame drove him to Lucifer. If anything Gabriel had been trying to warn him. Now if only he could return the favor, but the angel wanted out of heaven he would just have to accept his ticket to hell. 

Sam laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder he felt himself whirl on Sam a snarl on his lips, before he pulled back.

Dean shoved him off. But not before he saw them. He reached out and grasped Sam’s hand again turning it over to look at his wrist.

Dean frowned. He was looking at Sam’s arms. Scars. More than there used to be at least. Thin straight little scars across his wrists and up his arm. Some obviously very deep others just a scratch. 

He had noticed the scars before, when he had seen Sam shirtless, but their significance was lost on him.  

Before they were merely decoration on a man that only slightly mattered to him. Now he knew that each cut represented pain and anguish that his brother was forced to suffer alone because he hadn’t been there for him.  It made his heart ache.  He knew the question showed on his face. WHY? 

“Well I’m going back to the room.” Sam insisted pointedly pulling his arm back shooting Dean a look as if to say it didn’t matter then why does it now? 

Dean wanted to stop him. He wanted to ask him about the scars.

Wanted to demand that he never do anything so stupid and self-destructive again, but he didn’t because he knew he had no right.

He wasn’t there when Sam needed him. He hadn’t been a brother to him in a long time. 

***

Crossroads, Louisiana, July 29 th , 1950

He was imagining things. Castiel told himself for the thousandth time as he rode his bike into town. The breeze from the movement of the bike did little to abate the growing heat of the afternoon. If he had been thinking he would have waited and ridden into town later towards the evening, but that was the problem he had not been thinking clearly. Balthazar couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. Other than friendship of course. 

His mind wondered as his body moved. The fluid movement of his limbs and the exertion let him relax. His heart had been beating impossibly fast. He knew it was his own deviant mind playing tricks on him, and yet he had thought for a moment there in the church, of all places, that Balthazar was going to kiss him and a small part of him had wanted it. He screwed his eyes shut as he brought the bike to a halt. It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be. He was shaking. It was a sin. He could never be with someone he wanted. He was afraid of hell. To say otherwise would be a lie. It left him shaking. He slowly opened his eyes. His bike had planted itself in the center of the crossroads between the church and the rest of town... he was breathing heavy but it didn’t have anything to do with this labor. Here was as good of place as any he decided. It was the same crossroad where so many years ago he had come to the realization that he would never marry.  It would work just as well as any other spot where he would condemn himself to hell. 

A tiny part of him thought that if he was going to sell his soul to the devil perhaps he should embrace his sin and enjoy himself beforehand, but that was just his weakness talking. 

He took the Yarrow that he had placed in the basket of his bike and the hand trowel and begun to plant them on each of the four corners of the crossroads. As the dry earth gave way he thought again about what he was doing. 

He wasn’t doing this for himself he reminded himself. He was doing this for the children. They had nowhere else to go. Nor did sister Hester. She came to the church four years ago and quickly became like a member of the family. She had been abused. When they found her she had been left nearly naked in a field near the church, severely beaten. Blood had soaked her dark brown hair matting it to her pale round face. Most of her bones on her left side had been broken. She had been very near death. He had nursed her back to health himself.   She never talked about her past or where she came from only said that there were demons there that didn’t like her very much. She was here to change all of that. She was here for the future. 

People like Sister Hester deserved a future. Those children deserved a future. 

Tomorrow he decided. Tomorrow night he would make the deal and that would be the end of it. If he was very lucky he would be able to do good on earth before the demon’s drug him down to hell. 

***

“I want to try something.”  Max insisted. He was laying on Dean’s bed blowing pale smoke rings up at the ceiling. They hadn’t made it in here before but Jason had easily known which of the countless empty rooms was Dean’s it smelled like him and the memory foam bed was to die for. Dean had gone in search of the demon wanting to speak to him about Crowley giving him away. 

Jason had heard everything that Crowley had said and thought it worked out fucking perfectly for him.  He just needed to reel Dean in. 

“What’s that?” Dean asked. Surveying the man. He was very attractive. He couldn’t deny that, but if he was being completely honest. He wasn’t what he craved. 

Jason sat up setting his pipe aside. He was still shirtless wearing the borrowed pair of sweatpants. 

“It’s dangerous.” He replied back hopefully catching the man’s attention

“I would never have been able to do it with Crowley.” He continued setting the bait.

“What is it?” Dean asked less enthused than he hoped. 

“Negotiated consent on  [ sextacy ](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sextacy&defid=783275) ” He replied. 

Dean frowned. “What?” 

“I want to drop some MDMA and take Viagra and have you fuck me while I’m rolling.” Max insisted. Dean kept frowning.

“Naturally I can’t exactly consent when I’m high so I’m doing it now.”

Dean crossed the room. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“That’s kind of the point.” Max insisted. “It has to be with someone I trust.” He continued.

“Someone that won’t take things too far.”

“How do you know I’m that person?” Dean wondered. 

His response surprised Jason. He expected Dean to agree, that was the point the bait, the thrill was that he was special everyone liked feeling special. It had never occurred to him, that Dean would question it.

“Because…” he began trying to think of reasons and surprising himself again with the truth.   

“Because my consent matters to you.” 

It had never really happened to him before.  Crowley never cared about his feelings he used him and he was fine with that. Didn’t need or deserve any more than that. The same could be said about Abaddon. He used them back the same degree so it didn’t matter. 

Dean sat on the bed. “Speaking of which. Are you sure you’re ok with this deal?” Dean asked. 

“Which one? The one where Crowley gave me to you or the one where I let your boyfriend watch you fuck me?”

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Cause the answer is yes to both.” Jason added before Dean had a chance to resend the offer. He was actually all for it. If he was being honest he was having fun. That was rare for him.  

***

Sam had no idea how Gabriel expected him to be able to pull this spell off.  The ingredients were off the charts an angel feather, a tear of a dragon and a pinch of the sands of time god’s sake. Not to mention the blood sigil, drawn in Gabriel’s blood and the Enochian invocation.   

CNILA PVGO CNILA

Blood onto blood. 

Yeah that wasn’t even remotely ominous.

Gabriel’s words echoed in his head “But understand when I say BLOOD-SPELLS CANNOT BE UNDONE!” 

The words rang with a truth that frightened him. 

He was torn on whether he should trust Ruby enough to ask for her help to gather the ingredients.

He didn’t think he had a choice. It was Ruby or Dean and while he loved his brother he still wasn’t sure what side he was on about the apocalypse. 

Still trusting Ruby over his brother had never served him well in the past. 

He took a deep breath. He would tell Dean.

His decision made up he left the bed where Ruby was sleeping next to him. He had learned a long time ago that he that he could keep sex and his heart separate. He had to after all the things that Lucifer had done to him. 

“Dean.” Sam called out. He could see his brother standing in the doorway of this room. 

Dean turned slightly to face him. 

Sam could see the shift in him as he saw who was speaking. More and more Dean was treating him as he used. Before he died. Before he became a demon. Sam wasn’t sure if it was Castiel’s influence or some alternative source but it was definitely interesting. 

“What’s up?” Dean asked 

“I need some spell ingredients.”

“Should I ask what for?” Dean wondered there was hesitant trust behind his question. He wanted to trust Sam, but his inner demon was incapable of such things. 

“No, not yet.”  

He nodded slowly to himself. 

“Check the store room, I should have most of what you need there.” 

Sam turned to leave when Dean spoke.

“If you’re trying to leave… “ he begun his words were tense. “I’d have to stop you.” he called out. 

Sam glanced over his shoulder. There it was the heartless demon. The jailor that had come to him every morning and every evening asking about his well being without really caring. It was still there.

“I know.”

Dean didn’t ask if he was leaving, he didn’t threaten to stop him, he didn’t have to they understood each other, he simply told him the truth. While Sam had been given more freedom he wasn’t free. 

Sam skipped down the spiral staircase gathering ingredients. 

Sam had to admit, a well-stocked pantry might have been part of the reason, the demon’s won. 

It was all there. The sands of time the dragon tear. The mixture in the bottle was tinged with the dragon’s blood, the tear was not given willingly. Except the angel feather. 

Sam clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to do it this way but he wasn’t sure he had another choice. He could always try to resummon Gabriel and see if the angel could give him a feather, but he knew he was kidding himself. Gabriel was trapped somewhere in whatever deep dark pit version heaven had as a jail cell. There was no way he could summon him without the feather. It was a catch 22.

There was only one angel left in his life. 

Sam shuddered at the thought, but his own personal suffering was worth it if he could save the world from this. 

He took a deep resigned breath. He rolled his neck and shook out his arms trying to prepare himself. Like a man walking the plank. 

Here was as good of place as any. Ruby was sleeping, Dean was currently occupied with Cas and the other demon. Sam wasn’t sure if he trusted Max, but he had learned the hard way demons were not to be trusted.

Sam drew the sigil on the bare concrete of the storeroom wall. 

“Here goes nothing.” He muttered to himself. 

The incantation was simple, simpler than you would think it would be to summon something as powerful as1 an archangel. 

He had the second spell ready and set to the side. Once his summoned him he wouldn’t have much time. 

He lit the flame.

“You called?” Lucifer murmured from behind him. He was leaning against the wall. Still in his preferred visage as nick. 

As usual his voice sent a shiver through him. It wasn’t real, he insisted to himself. It was conditioned. Sam knew that Lucifer possessed him for a relatively short time, but time with him had always seem immeasurable, and never in a good way. 

“I need to talk to you.” Sam insisted firmly. He was shaking. This was very dangerous. This wasn’t a projection. Lucifer was really here and that meant he knew where Sam was. It would be an easy matter for him to take him back to heaven with him and simply torture him into saying yes. Lucifer liked to talk like he never lied to Sam, never manipulated him into saying yes. 

It was a lie, the world was on fire, Lucifer promised to put out that fire, when instead he burned millions.

Lucifer approached him slowly sensuously stalking him like a cat. Sam felt his hackles rise, he inadvertently took a step back counter to his ultimate goal.  

Lucifer tisked. 

“Typical.” he chided. 

“You want everything to be on your terms.” 

Sam frowned. 

Lucifer laughed again. 

“I’m waiting.” he insisted tapping his food agitatedly, one hand on his hip. 

“For what?” Sam asked.

“My yes.” He continued grinning, like the serpent he was, all teeth and scales. 

Another shiver ran through Sam a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. He couldn’t say yes, to him. Even though his conditioning taught him that yes was all he needed to say to him. Lucifer had spent a lot of time teaching him to say yes whether he wanted to or not, perhaps in punishment for resisting him as long as he did, or maybe because he he just liked to see him grovel.  

“That is what you summoned me for?” he continued with an arched brow.

Sam licked his lips nervously.

“I miss you.” he whispered hoping that Lucifer wouldn’t see through his obvious lie, and at the same time hoping it truly was a lie. Lucifer had done things to him that he would rather die the experience again, but he had also given him pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. To say their relationship was anything other than abusive was a lie, but he’d begun to question his own sanity, with his desire for that abuse. Stockholm syndrome on steroids  

He watched as heat crawled into his eyes. Lucifer wanted him enough that he could be temporarily distracted from his goal. Nick was the body that he was currently inhabiting who likely only seconds ago was a clean skeleton had been received by Lucifer for his purpose, but it wasn’t the body he wanted.

“I knew you wanted me.” he whispered. Sam kept his right hand clenched at his side. He needed to speed things up or Lucifer would notice his plan. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Sam insisted. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened. Sam flinched worried that he might have tipped his hand. He’d never said it before without Lucifer forcing the words out of him.   

Instead Lucifer’s own confidence lead him forward. He grinned as he approached. He even licked his lips slightly. 

He approached Sam, roughly grabbing him by the back of his hair jerking the hair tie out letting the straight brown locks bunch into Lucifer’s fist.

“I want to see them.” he murmured quietly.  He wasn’t looking at him. He was doing his best not to disassociate, but he knew Lucifer knew what he meant. 

His wings.    

With a strange snarl like grin he spread his wings. Normally you couldn't see an angel’s wings, but just because you couldn't see them didn't mean they were there. 

They were large black wings, he knew at one point they had been a beautiful pure white, he knew that because Lucifer “the light bringer” had lamented the loss of his pure snow white wings on more than one occasion while he was in control of Sam’s body. 

Lucifer still held Sam by the hair, Sam could feel his pulse rocket, he needed to end this soon he was losing his composure he knew if he didn’t finish this soon Lucifer would rape him. The same what he had many times in the past except this time he’d asked him too. Yes it was a pretence but it didn’t change the fact that Lucifer would rub his false acceptance in his face

He felt the liquid pool around his curled fingers  and drip to the floor. 

Lucifer glanced down.

“You're bleeding.” he murmured confused before instantly realizing his intent he moved to strike Sam when he snatched at the pitch black feathers, while simultaneously pressing his bleeding hand to the sigil he had written in blood on the inside of the cabinet door.  Lucifer was able to him him sending him and the feather’s spinning before he vanished. 

Sam knew there was only a short amount of time left he would need to summon Gabriel then ward this room against angels. Lucifer might know where he was now but he wouldn't be able to teleport to any other room in Dean’s personal hell without his permission. The warding would protect them. He grabbed the feather unconsciously tossing it into the mixture chanting the words. 

Pouring a small about out blood out into his left hand drawing the symbol on the door. 

Gabriel felt the spell pulling him, while the binding on his cell tried to keep him in place. The two powerful magics opposing forces on his body.

Sam watched as Gabriel materialized before him before instantly collapsing on the ground.  

He was bleeding profusely from his eyes, nose and ears.

Sam struggled to get the angel to his feet, but he continued to fall. 

“I don’t have time for this get your ass up Lucifer will be right back and he is going to be mad.”

“You summoned Lucifer?” Gabriel gasped before gurgling in pain.

“What a dumbass.” he added chuckling. There was blood in his teeth.

“You’re one to talk.” Sam growled snidely, dragging the other man to the door.  

Once outside the room Sam hurried to finish the rest of the angel warding he had hidden around the room. 

He sighed heavily in relief once he finished.

“ nice doodles.” Gabriel muttered from behind him he was leaning on the door frame, but clearly inside the room. 

Sam scowled 

“Did I do the sigils wrong?” he asked anxiously worried that Lucifer would return before he could complete any additions if he made a mistake.

“No you have them right.” he agreed holding his side carefully. It looked like blood was seeping through the plain white T shirt.  He didn't look particularly angelic at the moment actually with the white t and blue jeans. He was also, bleeding more than he’d seen an angel. Sure they bleed but it was slow, sluggish even. They healed the vessel he didn’t seem to be healing.

He felt different too. His aura was diminished almost to human levels. 

“What are you not telling me.?” Sam ordered. He should have know something with the trickster would not be this easy.

Gabriel smiled. 

“Never could pull the wool over your eyes” he continued coughing up blood. 

“I’m not an angel this is my mortal vessel, but with just me inside. My grace is still imprisioned in heaven.”

More blood was staining his t shirt. It looked like he was bleeding from every pore. 

“If I survive…” he murmured wobbling slightly as he said this. 

“We still got to jailbreak heaven to get my grace out.” 

Sam wanted to strangle the Angel right then and there. He’d signed up to do one little spell thats it. Not to storm the gates of heaven itself. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible left alone plausible.

“Is there any good news?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel grinned. “Heaven has a back door.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on adding a side chapter about Sam and Lucifer's past called "I ran to the devil, and he was waiting" if you wanna keep a look out for it.It is gonna be a few short stories like when Sam said yes and the first time the devil had sex with Sam with Dean’s face maybe others not sure yet


	17. Wasn't born to be a civilized man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wont likely get to post another chapter till mid October unfortunately.

Gabriel woke in terrible pain. His entire body felt like he’d been flayed alive then set on fire, and if that wasn't descriptive enough, it felt someone pissed that fire out. He was having an all around perfect day so far. 

Still pain was good news. It meant he didn’t die anyway. He moved his arm slightly and was overcome by a crippling wave of pain. Although dieing might still be on the table, he thought to himself and he held perfectly still waiting for the agony to subside. A metallic taste filled his mouth like the smell of new pennies.

“Well you’re conscious that’s something.” Sam murmured dispassionately. 

“What did you do to me?” Gabriel asked hesitantly. Something was wrong with him, he felt distorted somehow, and it was more than bleeding from multiple orifices. Sam stepped closer. 

His heather green shirt was rolled up to the elbow on his right arm and bandaged. His left palm was also bandaged. Gabriel might not be very angelic right now, but he could still feel auras better than the average human and Sam’s was overwhelmingly demonic, at the moment. 

“You’re not going to like the answer.” Sam replied his face was impassive. He was still mad about the storming the gates of heaven thing, no doubt.   

Gabriel was lying where he fell on the floor of what looked like a storage room. He struggled to sit up, with a concerted effort he rose to a sitting position and tried to hang on to to floor to keep the room from spinning.

“You needed a transfusion.” Sam admitted quietly.

It took Gabriel a moment to realize what he meant. He swiped at his mouth blood tinged the back of his hand.

“You gave me demon blood?” he gasped disgusted. That would explain the profound sense of impurity he felt, his vessel had been fucking polluted.

Sam shook his head.

“I gave you my blood,”

“And you're all hopped up on demon blood.” Gabriel complained. 

“I had to hope that blood type didn’t matter that much for a vessel.” Sam continued ignoring him. 

“Can we go back to the fact I’ve got demon blood inside me.” He gripped.

“It saved your life.” Sam insisted. 

Gabriel said nothing. He was probably right, not that he would admit it. He wasn’t an angel at the moment, he was completely human. Sure he had a bit more juice than the average human, but he was basically powerless. The tiny bit of demonic energy he absorbed from Sam Winchester would negate blood type and was probably enough to heal his damaged body to functioning levels, not to mention it would  be cleansed from his vessel the moment he got his grace back.  Still it was the principle of the matter.

“You really are human aren’t you.” Sam asked eyeing him. 

Gabriel found himself oddly preoccupied with the fact that he was profoundly weaker than Sam at the moment. 

Sam had been clearly hitting the demonic juice bar of late.

This would be a really good time for him to get back at him for all the tricks he played on him and his brother. 

Sam wasn’t exactly a demon, but he wasn’t fully human either. 

There was enough demon blood coursing through him that he was getting some demonic perks. 

“Hey I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” he muttered quietly. Hoping there wouldn’t be a fight. That prickling sense of unease he’d felt his entire life flared back to life. Gabriel was an archangel he’d always had a target on his back, and being the youngest he’d tried to learn from his brother’s mistakes. 

When Gabriel contacted him, he thought he knew all he needed to about Sam winchester’s character, but maybe he was mistaken. 

It had been a long time since he knew Sam. Maybe there was more demon in his than human. 

Sam loomed menacingly over him for only a moment or two longer before sighing heavily. 

“How long till you’re well enough to go through with this insane plan of yours?” Sam murmured.

“A day or two?” he admitted. He was lucky to be alive and there was no way he was drinking anymore polluted blood. It was take a little bit before he was back up to even half strength, but they also didn’t exactly have time to tarry so half strength it would have to be. 

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

Gabriel was having trouble equating the man before him with the Sam he knew.  Maybe he’d never really gotten to know Sam Winchester, at least he didn’t get to know him as well as he wanted, something thing intimate and naked, but he used to think at least he knew the basest sum of the man. He’d been self righteous, giving and determined. 

The man before him now was another person entirely.Impassive, disillusioned, cautious. 

He wanted to ask what Lucifer did to change him, but he imagined that he wouldn't like that answer. 

Gabriel knew his brother, knew what he was capable of. He was a monster. He didn’t use the term lightly. He had seen how his brother treated humanity it was barbarous.  

“So you gonna offer me a bed or do I gota take yours?” He asked with as much snark as he could muster. Bravado had served him in the past, now it had become second nature. 

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the angel beside himself.

What an ass. 

He shook his head ruefully.  It wouldn’t be easy keeping a powered down angel safe in this place.

He and Dean had a truce of sorts, but if Dean thought he was trying to escape he would stop him, he’d made that clear, and Sam couldn’t  be certain that he would stop and listen to reason beforehand.  

Not to mention he didn’t, couldn’t trust Ruby, or Dean’s new friend Max. 

It wouldn't be easy but….

“I’m sure we can find you something.” 

***

The scene felt like one out of sitcom. Sam and Gabriel carefully crept up the stairs. Dean had plenty of guest rooms available in his space, but if there was a time they would get caught this would be it.  

“Sweet digs you got here,but I got to say, not loving the hellish vibe.”

Gabriel muttered quietly.

“That would be the fact that we are hell adjacent.” Sam replied softly

Gabriel sorted.   “Great.” 

Sam stopped him at the top of the stairs. He stepped forward slightly he glanced into the first bedroom, where Dean staied. There was no one. They must be entertaining themselves elsewhere at the moment. 

He moved slightly down the hall to where he was currently sharing a room with Ruby. she was also missing. He wondered briefly if they had started another round of sex without him and decided he didn’t care. 

Sam gestured for Gabriel to join him. The Angel rushed forward to the best of his ability which at the moment was a slow leisurely walk. His hand pressed against the wall for support as he moved forward.

He reached his room where Sam stood and, by his facial expression he was clearly in pain. He leaned heavily on the door jam.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked strangely concerned. He just didn’t want the angel dying on him. He didn’t even want to think about how angry lucifer would be with him., when he saw him again, and he was fairly certain he would see him again he wasn't that lucky. 

“Five by five.”  he insisted his voice strained.

Sam didn’t a chance to argue with his summation he heard someone coming down the hallway.

“That’s Ruby?” Sam hissed. Looking around for a quick beat he saw no other option.

“Get in the closet.” He said quickly 

Gabriel scowled at him raising a brow as if to imply seriously?

“What am I your mistress?” he murmured aghast. 

“Yes, now get in the damn closet.”  Sam insisted pushing him inside.

Ruby was grinning at him, Sam found himself oddly disturbed by her smile. 

“Where have you been?” she wondered. She was holding a cup of coffee in her hand. Sam had to admit he had no idea what time it was. Had he been gone all night? All day? Time in hell lingered and stretched until it no longer resembled normal time.

“Meditating.” he replied at a loss for words. Luckily she gladly accepted his lie. 

“You hungry?” she asked. 

No, he realized, at least not for food. The moment she spoke in the way she spoke reminded him that he hadn't fed off her in a few hours,and giving away some of his blood had weakened him. Not as much as it would have if he had been human, but he still wanted to feed, and yet he couldn't do it.

Not with the angel watching. Sam knew that he would be able to see them through the slats in the closet. 

“Let’s take a shower.” he insisted not really wanting her, but trying to leave the room so that Gabriel could continue down the hall. He would find him later.

Gabriel watched Sam and the demon leave. Shaking his head, too bad, if things had been different he would love to save him from her demonic clutches by taking him in his own angelic clutches, but he wasn’t up for the challenge at the moment.  He limped his way out of the room and into a different room down the hall, he remembered to lock the door before collapsing on the bed, he felt like he could sleep for a century. 

***

Dean was feeling different. He had tried his best to hide it during his conversation with Crowley because he knew that man would take advantage of any perceived weakness, but he could feel the mark, that sounded redundant, because of course he could feel it. He knew it needed blood, or sex, but this was different. The mark wasn’t him. This was a new development. Before now he and the mark had been symbiotes, each feeding off each other’s desires building the fire and decadence. He had used the mark and the mark used him back, now… he felt separate from it.

It wasn’t his desire for blood. Maybe still his desire for sex, but for different reasons. That last vision as painful as it was had knocked something loose inside of him. 

Dean knew that to do this thing properly with Cas meant he needed to talk to him. Maybe it was his burgeoning sentimentality, but he knew that he couldn't do this with talking to him. He wasn’t in the bedroom so Dean when searching, he found him in the war room of all places idly running his fingers over the green felt of the pool table staring off into space as he did it.

“What happened to you?” he asked not turning towards him. He was rolling the cue ball back and forth between his hands.

Why do you care I’m keeping you prisoner was his first thought Dean bit back the comment.

“I haven’t told you everything” he admitted. Stepping slowly forward.

Cas glanced back at him over his shoulder.

“That was…” he left the words to trail.

“Messy?” Dean supplied.

“Terrifying” Cas amended.   

Dean nodded he could see that. He had to admit he’d been afraid and his own craven sense of self preservation had diminished with his return of his human sentiments however that was happening, maybe it was connected to the visions, he’d been having more lately than he ever had before. 

“The universe is falling apart.” Dean admitted not sure why he was telling him the truth, but oddly he trusted Cas. 

“It’s the end of the world.” Cas agreed. Not truly understanding what he was saying, after all he was only human they only could view things on a small scale.  

“Not just the world, the entire universe, our plane of existence.” 

Cas turned partially his body still quarter turned away.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that someone did something to change the fabric of our reality and because of it everything is unraveling.” 

Cas’s eyes widened. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked suspiciously 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. 

“Maybe because I trust you… or maybe because you deserve to know, because whatever was changed it has to do with you. You're the center of it all.” 

“How?” he wondered accusingly.

Dean shrugged. “ I don’t know” he admitted. “But I have these visions.” 

Cas’s eyes widened “of another world.” he said quietly

Dean nodded. “You've had them too?” he wondered. It had been a possibility he’d never asked before because he hadn't trusted Cas now it made no sense.

“Once.” he admitted softly.

“But it was nothing like that,” he admitted. 

“It wasn’t like that, at first, they’ve been growing more and more painful, I have a theory on that actually.” he admitted giving voice to his fears.

“I think the visions are a ripple effect, I think I am in as much flux as our universe. I think whatever changed the universe also changed me.”

Cas watched him silently

“What does that mean for you?” Cas wondered. He wasn’t sure how he felt. If something happened to Dean he would be free, but… there was an uneasiness there. He didn’t want that. He couldn't say why.   

Dean shrugged.

“I don’t know,but it feels like it’s killing me.” 

Cas frowned. 

“That is why you took me?” he asked.

“I took you before that, all I knew was I’d seen your face in my visions, and I knew I needed you.” even as he said the words they surprised him. Needed Cas. It sounded insane and yet it gave answers to his near compulsive obsession with him.  

“Why are you telling me this?” Cas asked again confused.

Dean looked away. He swore he wouldn’t pressure Cas, but he felt the words tumble out. 

“I want to be with you.” he admitted surprising himself again. 

“As me.” he added clarifying.

It was clear Cas didn’t understand and why would he. He didn’t know him as anything other than a demon, and Dean was fine with that. Being a demon didn’t bother him, but the mark and it’s hold over him was beginning to.  

He stepped forward and the mark flared to life because of Cas’s closeness, proving his point.

Predator, and prey. It made him want to pounce and tear him apart, and yet Dean didn’t want to do that.

He wanted… needed to be gentle with him.  

He held out his arm.

“This mark,” he begun showing off the burn like scar, is the mark of Cain.” 

Cas’s eyes widened he knew what that was, even if he didn’t truly from a supernatural point of view. 

“It gives me more power as a demon that I could possibly imagine, but it’s a double edged sword. It’s diminishes my world to predator and prey, only the strong and the weak, threats and the vulnerable. 

It hurts me, if I don’t give it what it want’s namely blood, or other primitive delights, and the rush it gives me from killing or fucking, is like pure cocain directly to the pleasure center of my brain, it is powerfully addictive, but I don’t want to be like that with you.” he admitted.

“I never said you could have me.” Cas whispered.

Dean nodded. “And the mark loves a challenge, it wants you, it's screaming for you, it's everything I can do not to give into it and take you right here.”

Cas inhaled sharply.

“,but I swore to you.” he murmured “I want to show you what you are missing, the idea of you watching me drives me wild, me. Not just the mark.”

Cas’s heart was beating loudly in his ears, he didn't know what to think. This person before him, wasn’t the cold aloof unaffected demon he met at the crossroads. If he didn’t know any better he would say he cared about him.

“Why are you doing this? He asked again. Still bewildered.

“ These visions… he begun before growing silent. 

“ I feel different.” he admitted.

“Demons don’t experience emotions, but I am.” he whisperd 

Cas couldn't tell if he was being honest with him or manipulating him, but he felt a pang in his chest regardless. 

“I wanna see you cum.”Dean told him his words sounded like warm velvet.

His words went directly down his body straight to his cock. Cas was curious. He had said as much, that he wanted to watch Dean, he wanted to know more. He wanted to know what he was missing. 

Dean did things to him, that he’d never felt or experienced before. He didn’t trust those feelings he knew they were lust, he’d heard the stories of how lust blinds you to the truth, but he wanted to be blinded. 

“I don’t know if I can have sex with you as myself even if you wanted to.” Dean murmured. 

Cas could picture Dean with the man in the library, bent over the table. He could picture the writhing mass of bodies on the floor Dean among them. If dean was being honest with him maybe he could return the favor.

“ I am afraid.”

Dean flinched. 

“Not of you.” he amended quickly.

Dean turned back to face him.

When did he get that close? How had the suddenly gotten toe to toe? 

“Of my own desires. My whole life people told me they were wrong, and they don’t feel wrong.”

Dean leaned down very slowly moving to kiss him. Cas knew he should pull away. If he was going to remain autonomous he needed to stay in control, but he didn’t want to be in control.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asked just a hairsbreadth away. The same as the day they met.

He waited he could feel his breath ghosting sensuously across his lips. 

“Yes.” 

Their lips met in an excruciatingly sweet meld of flesh. 

Dean kissed softly his mobile lips pliant against his. 

Cas wanted him, wanted to experience everything he was missing. He knew if he pressed he would let him touch him. He would surrender to the feelings of desire, but he didn’t press. He pulled away.

The mark was ordering him to turn back to devour him, and yet he lingered.

“If you want to watch…” he begun not meeting his eyes.

“Max and I are going to be in the library.” 

Cas was gasping for breath.

“I promise it will be educational.” 

***

Cas watched as the man in the mask, knelt on the floor. He wore a black dog collar around his neck a metal link leash attached to it that Dean held.

Castiel thought that it looked beautiful, he wasn't sure why. 

“Bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism.” Dean muttered going through the words.  They meant nothing to him.

Cas wasn’t sure what he meant, but he found himself oddly preoccupied by the collard naked man on the floor. He knelt with his arms held behind his back.

Cas could picture himself kneeling in the same position.

“Why would someone do that?” Cas asked interrupting Dean.

He’d seen the way they’d used him during the orgy and while he found himself wanting to be him he knew it wasn't normal.

He grinned. 

“Cause its fun. Haven’t you ever been out of your element and like that feeling?” Dean wondered. 

Cas had to agree he had, with him. 

“Everything in life is about an exchange of power.”

He continued. 

Cas wasn’t sure he understood but he was intrigued.

“A submissive submits to a Dom or dominate,” Dean begun. “Because it is fun for them they give up control for long periods of time. However they still have opinions and  choices and can still make them. It changes only during set times and parameters. There is a power balance between dominant and submissive. Meaning that in a submissive role although you give up the control the power is really in your hands. You can always say no, by using a safe word.”

“Why not just say no?” Cas wondered.

Dean was smiling. 

“Depends on the scene, sometimes it is fun to pretend no means yes.” Cas frown again not sure what any of this was but still strangely excited. 

“Max here is a slave. As a slave control is given up completely. The power balance is completely tipped in the Dominants direction. My direction.” Dean added with a wink.

Dean took a few steps forwards and Max trailed behind him on his hands and knees.

“He likes it.” Cas commented softly. Wondering what the circle of leather would feel like around his neck. He’d found himself oddly intrigued by the cuffs in the past. 

Dean paused.

“Do you like it?” Dean asked him.

“Yes, master.” the man murmured and Cas knew it was true he was naked and his rampant erection was hard to miss.

“Tell Cas here what you want me to do to you so there isn't any confusion.” Dean prompted.

“I want you to fuck me over and over in as many positions as you want and fill me up with your cum. I want it on me. in me. all over me.”

Cas gasped besides himself surprised. 

“Sometimes. Submissives like pain.” he explained.

“Sometimes, they like humiliation.”  

Cas frowned why would anyone want to be humiliated, he wasn't sure.

“Why?” 

Dean arched a brow.

He turned towards the other demon who knelt on the ground before him. Dean pulled the leash taut forcing the man to a straight position.

“Do you like that fact that everyone can see how hard you are for me?” he taunted.

“Yes.” he whispered. 

He turned back to cas.

“Cas liked watching us fuck you know.” he murmured looking him directly in the eye a strange pang of something went through him.

“He was hard and aching for it, just watching me fuck you,” he was talking to Max but looking at Cas.

“His cock was dripping precum, he wanted to be you so badly on your knees getting fucked from both sides.”

Cas looked away first. His words were crude and rough and completely accurate. He wanted to be Max in that moment. He wanted to experience that complete abandonment.

Cas gulped hard. 

Dean smiled. Turning back to Max

“I’ve got what you wanted.” he told him softly trying to focus on him knowing that it was damn impossible with Cas there he had a plan, he wanted to test his theory and fucking Max was a good way to do that.

“You can have it. If you wash it down with my cum…”

He purred.

Max nodded. Cas watched enthralled as the man crossed the floor on his hands and knees, before slowly undoing Dean’s fly. Dean was already hard. The mark made it very easy.

This was different than the last time he sucked him. Cas was still watching, but this time Max knew what he wanted, he knew he wanted to give Cas a show and he obliged. 

He lapped at his cock slowly circling his cockhead with his tongue. 

The last vestiges of his doubt left him. Cas knew he wanted to be the man on the floor laving Dean’s cock with his tongue. 

He didn’t care if it was wrong. He wanted it. 

Dean was having difficulty controlling the mark which was what he feared. The less symbiotic his relationship with the mark grew the less control he had over it. He wanted to shove his cock down the other man’s throat he wanted to feel his muscles move around his as he gagged.

It was brutal and violent.

Max didn’t seem to care he bobbed his head up and down on his cock with the need of a cockhungry slave. 

Dean wasn’t concerned about refractory periods, he was a demon he was way beyond human capabilities. He pressed forward, enjoying himself.

He held the two pills in his hand. He knew that Max would be more than capable of getting him to orgasm quickly. 

He wasn’t disappointed, 

Max smiled to himself as he felt Dean cum into his mouth he held the salty treat for a moment till Dean pressed the pills past his lips. He swallowed the cum and pills in one large gulp. He was actually enjoying the hell out of himself. He was a bit worried that the was more about having fun for him than manipulating Dean. 

***

“Fucking, Cas, come on padre you can say it.” Dean encouraged playfully. 

He stroked a quick hand down Max’s back the man shivered beneath his touch. He was held immobilized in a standing position in a stockade. His head and wrists held in the heavy wooden frame, forcing him to bend at at angle that gave him all the access he needed, the man was already rolling. His ankles were also immobilized at the base of the stockade. Placing him perfectly perpendicular.  They were in Dean’s for a lack of a better word dungeon. The real one not the one where he held Sam for years. They had switched rooms because Dean wanted to showcase his toys.

The priest’s face was white. He licked his lips nervously. 

Dean might be a tad cruel at the moment. He wanted to make the other man say it. Tell him what he wanted, if nothing else because it was strangely erotic.

“ I want to watch you two fucking.” he replied. He was wearing the clerical collar again. Dean had noticed that he’d taken to not wearing it and oddly he’d missed it. Must be the perverse thrill of the chase.

He wore it like a bad habit he was conscious of it. Kept touching the white expanse at his throat.

Dean had admit he liked the idea of a collar around the man’s throat, but it wasn’t clerical that he had in mind.  

Max whined beneath his still hand. Dean turned his attention to the sub that he could have. 

He dug his nails in as he slid them carefully down his back. Max didn’t have an erection. It was hard to get while on ecstasy, the viagra would take a moment to kick in and even if it did the combination made it damn near impossible to cum. He had set himself up for the perfect level or torture. 

The mark was already telling him that he should rush ahead but he held on the the vestiges of control that he possessed, but he would take his time. This was as much for Cas as it was for Max. for once he needed to ignore his demonic impulses that begged him to fuck with abandon, he needed to coax and tempt and tease. He swore he wouldn't pressure Cas and he had no intention of forcing him, but he wanted him desperate for him. 

“What do you want me to do to him?” Dean asked watching him. Cas was clearly out of his element, he had an erection, but the look on his face showed his uncertainty. 

“Fuck him.” he said again this time more surely.

Dean smirked, too easy.

“How?”

He asked still running soothing hands over Max’s back, the man moaned at the slight touch. Dean wanted to tell Cas to crouch at the man’s feet and suck his cock while Dean fucked him, or better yet reverse those positions place Max at Cas’s feet, so that Cas could fuck his mouth while Dean fucked him. It would be beautiful and perfect. 

Cas was watching Dean, when he came to the man with this plan he didn’t know how difficult it would be. He was painfully aroused, not just by the scene of the naked bound man, but by Dean’s firm words and the strange sense of humiliation. The anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him this was wrong, but also felt unbelievably undeniably right. 

Was it wrong that he was enjoying this man’s arousal, that he was enjoying his own discomfort? His embarrassment at being clearly erect and wanting. He had lain awake that night after the orgy trying to decide if it was wrong to enjoy it, he’d enjoyed the sensation when he watched, he had tried to ignore it, but watching and them seeing his arousal in turn had been arousing to no end. He still had no answers. 

Cas gulped, he had no idea what he wanted Dean to do to the other man, but he wanted something. 

Somehow Dean sensed his need.

“Do you want to touch him?” he asked. His eyes were hot like fire as they ran over his body.

Cas nodded. Stepping forward. He touched the other man he groaned beneath him as he gently ran his fingertips over his spine. 

Dean wanted to kiss him. He watched as Cas tentatively stroked two fingers down Max’s back. 

For some reason he had this intense urge to possess the man before him, in every way possible.

Dean watched spellbound as the innocent priest trailed his fingers over the slave. He ran them across his back down over his ass, he crouched to continue the touch on the back of his thighs. 

Cas wasn’t sure what aroused him more the casual touch of the man before him who moaned in ecstatic bliss with each caress or the heat in Dean’s eyes as he watched his hand. 

Cas paused. Could he touch the other man this intimately. He could barely bring himself to think the word let alone say it aloud. Cock? Should he ask the man if he could touch him so freely? Should he ask Dean?

He had made a point of claiming to be his own man and yet in this he felt so lost. He wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do. It was strange he knew his actions were his and he was in control of himself and yet with Dean watching him, he felt somehow he was here to please him. It was irrational, he had spent his entire time as his prisoner fighting that urge. Their kiss that first night had unlocked something inside him and the longer he spent in his company the more Dean seemed to be setting him free.  

“Go ahead.” Dean replied encouraging him. 

Cas nodded somehow compelled to push past his own qualms.  The man hissed in near pain.

Cas jerked his hand back surprised. 

Dean chuckled.

He stepped up towards them laying his hands on either side of the demon’s exposed hips.

“It feels so good it hurts.” Dean explained

Cas hesitated again. He stood and moved towards the form on the structure. He couldn’t the other man’s face. He wore a shiny black hood. There were zippers over his eyes, and mouth his nose was exposed so that he could breath.  

Cas knelt between the frame. He continued determined. He curled one hand around the other man’s cock. He experimentally stroked forward. The man whined he was growing hard, in his hand.

Dean wanted to fuck alright, but it wasn’t max he wanted, shit it was completely artless his submission. Max had perfected the art of kneeling in the perfect angle that gave him access to his neck or crawling across the floor at just the right way to tease. 

Cas had no image in mind, he was simply exploring. 

Dean was fine with the first cock he explored not being his own only because it left him to watch the tentative expressions that crossed Cas’s face without having to hold back the mark.

If Cas touched him as he was Max there would be no way that he could hold back. 

Cas enjoyed the velvety texture and the way the skin slid over the hardness in his palm, but he more enjoyed the look Dean was giving him it was frightening how excited it got him.

He’d stoked cock before, namely his own, so he was familiar with the mechanics involved. Pressure, speed

Max was doing his best to fuck Cas’s hand slightly rocking the stockade the padlock clicking against the metal.

The urgent sound of his whines.

Dean pulled the lube out of his pocket and begun to carefully. Rub the lube across man’s puckered hole. 

With his left hand he reached forward pulling on the zipper at his mouth.

“What color are you at?” he asked 

“Green.” he practically pured. 

Dean nodded. He wanted to fuck so bad he was shaking the mark was begging him to continue. To seek the hot heat of his body to fuck till his muscles were sore, but he needed Cas to move away, he couldn't be near him while the mark was in control 

Cas glanced up it was insane what he was doing how was it possible that he wanted this so much?

“ Stop.” told him. “Sit down.”  he ordered.  

Cas compiled a small thrill going through him.

Dean leaned over the other man’s back.

“You can’t see it” he whispered into his ear 

“,but touching your cock got Cas hard.” 

Max moaned deep in his chest. 

A little flip flop lept into his stomach, he expected to feel real shame except he didn’t just the same thrill of fire. 

“I’m going to fuck you know,” Dean murmured in the man’s ear licking the shell. 

“And you’re going to want to cum, you’re going to get sooo close, but you won’t.” 

He whimpered.

Cas wanted to touch himself, wanted to while he watched Dean fuck the other man, but he couldn’t he kept his hands at his sides.

Dean slid his finger into the other man’s ass slowly by careful increments, but he shouldn’t have worried, he was completely relaxed.

Dean slid down his fly his cock springing forward. He could do this. This would work. He was sure of it. He slid carefully into Max’s ass the heat, the tightness. Watching Cas, it was so much.

Cas watched as Dean threw his head back as he slid into the other man, he didn’t think that he would have gotten harder, he could feel precum leaking from the tip of his cock. 

He couldn’t fight the urge any longer he pulled down his own fly shoving his pants down around his ankles so he could pull of his underwear. 

The moment his hand touched his cock he locked eyes with Dean. shit. He felt bound in place by the man’s eyes. 

Dean was fucking Max for all he was worth fast even thrusts, he was grunting and moaning beneath him,but it wasn’t the least little bit about him anymore he was distracted by the sight of Cas touching his own cock he wasn’t put on a show per say, he wasn’t angling himself to his best advantage he was touching himself for pleasure. He was groaning raising his hip slightly his head thrown back slightly their eyes locked. Dean wanted to drop his mouth over his cock and let him fuck him mouth, torture him with this tongue. He didn’t think sucking cock was counter to dominance. 

“Cas’s likes to watch.” he murmured in Max’s ear

“He’s stroking his cock, for you baby.” he teased fucking him harder. 

Somehow verbalizing what he was doing made it sound completely filthy and that same dark part of him found it completely thrilling. He didn’t think he could hold on. 

Dean could tell that he was getting close. 

He wanted to see the priest come undone for him.

“I wanna see you cum.” he said again.  He wanted to watch him explode. 

Dean snapped as Cas moaned slightly 

He began to fuck him in earnest. Shaking stockade making him grateful that he had it bolted to the floor. 

Max hissed.

“Color.” Dean snapped with a tiny touch on control

“Green” he grunted dean couldn't tell if he was lying, but part of him couldn't care. 

Cas’s hand was a blur on his own cock he coudlnt stop the impending orgasam that ripped through him so hard he saw white spots before his eyes. 

Dean slammed into Max six or seven more times before he too came filling the other man’s ass his extras thrusts forcing some to leak back out. 

It was working he realized each time he came the mark was less and less in control, if he was lucky maybe by the time cas was ready he actually might be able to fuck him as himself versus the mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are getting down to the wire. Cas and Dean sex scene is coming up in one of the next few chapters. I'm not sure which yet. the bits with the side characters keep getting longer like Samandriel and Michael and Crowley also Sam and Gabriel now.
> 
> Your comments keep me going please post


	18. I think I lost my halo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should get back to Cas and Dean possibly Sam and Gabe next chapter. moving along slightly lost plotless sex break for a bit I hope.

Samandriel woke in a rush. He lay perfectly still, he wasn’t sure where he was. He remembered last night the strange erotic torture that left him more confused than anything. Crowley had left him, he’d lifted him and placed him in his bed cum and all wrapping him up in the blanket tucking the sides in so that he wouldn't pull free.  He wasn’t sure how long it had been, it was possible he had only slept a few moments.

“Comfortable?” Crowley asked from his left. 

Samandriel jumped surprised. He hadn’t seen the demon lurking in the corner. 

Crowley was watching him with the same assessing eyes. 

Samandriel wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

Maybe he was just inspecting his latest toy he didn’t know, but his eyes watching him was bothering him.

Crowley was watching Samandriel, for signs of distress perhaps, he didn’t really know why he was watching him other than his eyes craved the view... He found himself hovering over the submissive angel.  Crowley had never been the best dominate in the classic sense. Aftercare, tenderness, mutual vulnerability, it was difficult for him. Affection was foreign to him, still he worried that he’d pushed the angel too far too quickly, but the angel lied to him.  He couldn't abide lies… that didn't come from his own lips. 

He said that he had no experience with submission and yet that couldn’t possibly be true. He was too perfect.

Crowley was fine with not being the first man to traverse those lines that kept polite society separated from the kinky individuals who indulged in their darkest desires, but honesty mattered.

“Why did you lie?” Crowley wondered as he was watching him. It was amusing how the angel curled protectively inward trying to keep himself from view.  

“What are you talking about?” 

Crowley was surprised by his insistence

“Have you ever submitted to anyone before last night?” he asked.  

“No, he replied softly. “Not in the way you mean.” he admitted.

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“All angels submit to God.”

Crowley fought laughter. 

The angel was a bloody natural. His mind spun anew with all the wicked things that he could do to him after his time with Michael.

“I imagine you would want a shower. Before seeing Michael.” Crowley murmured quietly from his side. 

Besides himself Samandriel realized he was blushing. 

He knew he smelled like sweat and semen. He didn't he could face Michael that way.

“Yes.” he agreed his eyes downcast. 

Crowley was watching him, cocking his head to the side studying him.

“Go.” he ordered quietly. Samandriel knew where the shower was, but strangely he was waiting for Crowley to leave. He’d seen him naked yesterday had placed him in much more compromising position then walking to the shower but he didn’t want him to see, his dried cum covered body. 

Somehow Crowley could sense that.

“Do you think you have something I haven’t seen before?” he asked quietly.

“Something I don’t have a right to see?” 

Samandriel dropped his eyes. That was right, he had no privacy. He took a deep breath and stood walking towards the shower. 

The water felt like a balm to his soul. He turned the water as hot as he could handle it. The  water close to scalding, maybe he would be able to wash off this shame. He still had the collar it wouldn’t come off and the water wouldn't harm it.When he made this deal he knew that it would be difficult, what he hadn’t expected was that he might like aspects of it. 

That was the worst of it. The pervasive wrongness of enjoying something he knew he shouldn’t

He didn’t want to like anything Crowley did to him. The man had kept him prisoner. Had tortured him, and it didn’t seem to matter. 

He placed his head against the cool of the shower tiles. He sat for several moments

Till the steam filled the room making it hard to breathe. Till the water turned his fingers into to wrinkled prunes. 

Till he found the strength to face the world. 

Samandriel turned off the water. He was just wasting time at this point. Time that could be spent trying to heal Michael. 

He carefully toweled himself dry. He wasn't as sore as he expected he might be. He’d been left used and abused by Crowley in the past, but this time he’d returned. It was surprising. Usually it would be months before he saw him again and he would ask him another series of questions he couldn't answer. 

He wanted to wrap himself up in the blood red towel, but he fought the urge. He carefully hung it on the provided rack. He straightened looking at his reflection in the mirror. 

He didn’t really recognize himself in the mirror, why should he. It wasn’t him. It was a meatsuit. Still he knew the shape of his hands, the feel of his own body.  He’d lived in it longer than any other body.

He took one last deep breath before leaving the shelter of the bathroom

He walked naked into Crowley's bedroom. He was sitting in the same chair by the bed. He wore his reading glasses again. He was clearly examining the same contract from the night before. Was it his? 

He glanced over at him. He felt a strange swirling in the pit of his stomach. 

He swallowed past his nervousness.

“What else may I do for you master?” he asked stepping forward he knelt at Crowley’s feet

Crowley fought the intake of breath at seeing him. Honestly he’d been intending on letting the little angel go to see his brethren unmolested. Yet seeing him kneeling before him his palms upwards resting on his knees. His eyes downcast meekly, accepting his judgement flipped a switch inside him.

Crowley stood and walked towards the cabinet behind his desk. He was pleased to note that Samandriel did not rise to follow him, but instead remained kneeling before the chair. 

The cabinet had an array of toys that Crowley could use for Samandriel pain or pleasure, in this insistence he chose frustration.  

He had not been exaggerating when said that he would own his slaves cock. He removed the chastity tube. The pearlescent length of the tube was made from a biosourced resin. Typically he preferred to place his slaves in steel cock cages, but he wanted to ease Samandriel’s  transition.  The metal was heavier and caused more discomfort to those unused to enforced chastity. The resin  would soften slightly upon contact with heat. Once the cage was put in place and the temperature is right the device softens, to fit perfectly the curves of the body, while completely preventing stimulation. 

Also Crowley had to admit the name of this particular device felt appropriate Holy Trainer. 

Crowley turned and was equally  pleased to note that Samandriel whirled quickly to face the chair again. 

He loved his slaves submission, but he wanted a fight.

Samandriel was anxious. Crowley could tell as he stepped up to the lad. He couldn't help the smile that slid over his features. 

The placement of a chastity device wasn’t sexual, in itself, meaning you did not need to be aroused to place it, but the meaning behind it was sexual. 

It was giving away release, putting that control in the power of another person. It was somehow erotic.

Samandriel did not recognize the device that Crowley held up, other than it was fairly easy to recognize its phallic shape. 

“Once this is on your cock you won’t be able to reach orgasm, unless I allow it.”

Crowley kept to himself that fact that no cock cage was completely unescapable, he didn’t need to with Samandriel, he would obey. 

“I own your pleasure, it will be up to me when and if I allow you to receive it.”

Samandriel nodded, but his eyes were uncertain. 

Crowley knelt down till they were face to face forcing the angel to catch his eye.

“That being said. If it causes you pain, or extreme discomfort you must tell me.”

The angel nodded solemnly.

“It is time we establish a safeword.” 

Samandriel looked up at him again his bright eyes meeting his. 

He didn’t believe that he would keep his word, Crowley had to admit he wasn't sure either, depending on when the angel used it, but he would try.

Crowley watched him for a moment longer till he was certain that the angel would comply.

The boy jutted his chin up a slight signal of defiance that shot straight to his cock, before he licked his lips.

“Freedom.” he responded.

Crowley smirked.

“As you wish.” he agreed with a nod of his head.

This particular device was designed with an internal lock in the cockring base, less secure, in his opinion, but it was irrelevant. There were three separate components the cockring that enclosed the base of the penis and testicles. Then the tube which enclosed the head and shaft, and the master lock. 

He gestured for Samandriel to stand as he had done. 

The feel of Crowley’s hands on his body was confusing as he easily placed his scrotum in the ring, before inserting his penis as well, the angle forcing his cock downwards.

It would be difficult to get erections or perhaps just painful.

Crowley removed a small bottle of lube from his pocket. Pouring some into his hand 

He glided over his cock just the barest amount of friction. Allowing for the ease of  insertion of his penis into the tube. The tube and the cockring base interlock easily in the middle. Crowley placed the masterlock in the allotted slot locking the whole thing in place with a muted click.  

It should not have been arousing. 

It should have be infuriating, a removal of his rights as a being, and yet it wasn’t 

He easily swelled the best he could in the cramped device. Crowley sneered at him. 

There was so much more he wanted to do to him, but the time wasn’t right yet. Tonight.

Still there was one more element, he needed. 

“I want you to lay on the bed on your back.”

Samandriel complied. 

Crowley stepped forward. This wasn’t for Samandriel’s pleasure. This was about control, the pleasure would come later.

“Hold your legs.” He ordered.

Samandriel grasped his legs leaving him exposed. 

Crowley pulled on a black latex glove

Samandriel wasn’t sure of his motives, but he was anxious.

Crowley lubed his fingers. Sliding his slippery digits across his puckered hole, before pressing slowly inside. 

Samandriel bucked up and the invasion his cock hardening in his cage.

It was tight and slightly uncomfortable.

Crowley slid his two fingers in and out of him slowly massaging prostate.

Samandriel rocked back against him. He couldn't help it, it was biological. His pressure was just short of what he needed to be pleasurable. It was frustrating. Crowley kept up the relentless assault on his prostate. Kneading it slowly but with firm consistent pressure. 

Crowley was watching him closely for his responses. The boy was biting his lip in frustration. That was where he wanted him. He could perform this task three different ways. One an orgasmic prostate milking that caused intense orgasam. Two a ruined orgasm stopping short of the goal leaving frustration, or three. A pleasure-less prostate milking that was designed to milk the seminal fluid without sexual release.  The last was the most difficult and his current goal. 

The sensation was more pain than pleasure. He could feel the sensations like a building orgasm but too far away to reach. 

He wasn’t sure how long he spend writing on Crowley’s fingers desperately trying to cum, but being unable.

His cock was dripping. He could feel the moisture gather at the head. 

Crowley liked teasing the boy. Giving his prostate just enough pressure that it was maddening, but this wasn’t about pleasure it was ownership he wanted him to feel completely and utterly owned.

When it finally came it was far from the release he needed. He watched frustrated as cum dribbled useless from his cock giving him no pleasure as Crowley milked his prostate. It was frustrating and terrifying he had wanted Crowley to make him cum. 

Crowley stepped away coming back with a towel he wiped away the cum.

Samandriel stood only to have Crowley turn him and roughly shove him back down on the bed.

He held up an anal plug that Samandriel could just barely see over his shoulder.

“One more thing pet.” he crooned. 

The plug was large and silver shaped roughly like a grenade except rather than a pin, there was a bar handle.

Samandriel watched as Crowley lubed up the plug. Before slowly sliding it inside of him. 

He was surprised when he felt the plug begun to expand inside of him stretching him.

“You know medievally” Crowley purred. “This was known as a pear of anguish.” 

Samandriel gasped he had heard of such devices. Instruments of torture used vaginally or anally stretching the victim.

“Don't worry it isn’t meant to hurt you.” 

He leaned forward kissing the back of his neck.

“I’ll save that pleasure for myself.”

Samandriel couldn't see what Crowley was doing he could only feel the plug expand one more time. It felt huge. The burn inside his tender hole was providing an ache throughout his entire body. He knew he shouldn’t enjoy it. 

There was a sound of metal sliding into place and a turn of a key.

It was a sickening realization Crowley had locked the plug into place. 

Milking him had made his prostate less sensitive but the pressure was still noticeable.

It was all designed to leave him wanting. His cock couldn't get fully hard and the pressure against his prostate wasn't enough to let him cum but he knew no matter what happened during the day he would not be able to go long without thinking about them or the man that put them there.  

Crowley smiled. Tonight he had every intention of making the boy suffer beautifully for his pleasure. 

For some enforced chastity was a complete removal of pleasure. That wasn't what Crowley wanted. He simply wanted all the pleasure in his life to come from him. 

“You can get dressed and see Michael now.”

***

He felt different. It should have been obvious. It felt like there was an manifest change in his composition, he was altered on a molecular level. He was owned. It stung his skin.

it wasn't enough that he marked him, the collar felt heavy around his neck, his own personal albatross. He had to claim him, in such an intimate and soul wrenching way.

humiliation colored his cheeks. He was physically uncomfortable. The lock left him feeling stretched, and near painfully full. His body fighting the foreign invasion. His movement felt stilted, barely ambulatory

It took a concerted effort to move with any level of fluidity.

He honestly hadn't thought anything Crowley did would change things. He’d been his prisoner for four years, he didn't think that there was another level of torment that he could inflict upon him.

He’d been wrong. Again.

Yet he couldn't lose his composure, not now. He was on his way to Michael. He needed to be strong for him.

So he dressed, in the loose fitting black pants and long sleeved black shirt that Crowley permitted him. Grateful for the looseness  of the material. The room was not as oppressively warm as his first meeting, but it still felt a fine sheen of sweat rise up on the back of his neck.

Michael sat in the armchair still wrapped up in the blue blanket. Yet today seemed to be a better day for him. There was less pallor to his cheeks, his eyes immediately sought him out as he entered the room focusing on him without too much difficulty.

“You came back.” he murmured his voice a subdued trill, but it was clear he was surprised.

Samandriel smiled. It was worth it.

“I promised I would.” he insisted stepping forward grateful for the door that closed behind him.

It created a distance between him and his would be master.

This was his sanctuary. Michael nodded. Softly it was clear that he was still heavily medicated.

Samandriel was uncertain how to continue  

Michael was frowning at him. Or more accurately his neck. Samandriel pulled up the color of his T-shirt slightly covering the silver ring, but it was too late he’d seen it.

He knew that he could bring Michael back to the man he was meant to be but he did not know how to start.

Samandriel moved to sit gingerly before Michael. Lowering himself down slowly. Pleased that he was able to sit semi comfortable as long as he was slightly angled to one side. It was hard to see Michael in his damaged state. The space where his right arm and leg used to be glaringly obvious.

Samandriel needed to remember that he wasn’t the only one altered by the war.

“How are you doing today?” He began uncertainly

“I don’t know.” Michael replied staring off into the distance again.

“What do I have to compare it too?” he mused.

Samandriel shifted and bit his lip and the sudden impact. It wasn’t quite painful, but it was close.

“Are you in pain?” Michael asked concerned

“I’m fine.” he insisted not wanting to draw too much attention to his discomfort.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he wondered. 

“Do you remember anything?” He asked trying to discern a starting point.

Michael looked at the handsome angel before him. He remembered him. He wasn’t sure from where or how but there was an image burned to his mind clear and sharp.

It was his face, but it wasn’t his face. He stood before him, the angel was kneeling at his feel, his face frozen in a expression of  beatific grace, as if was giving himself  to feelings of ecstatic peace and hopefulness.

In that frozen moments he felt yearning so profound it was  sanctified, yet it was unattainable.  

His god was a jealous lover.

“Very little.” he replied out loud. It wasn’t a lie. He did not know the angel from Adam, yet at the same time he knew they were acquainted.

The same way he knew he was as much of a prisoner as he was a guest here.

He remembered responsibility, but not the task.

There was a goal that must be completed. A sacrifice that must be made that was always his to make.  

He remembered urges and feelings dissociated concepts not connected to any solid ground. dissatisfaction, rage, regret,dissonance, yet no substance behind the feelings. 

He remembered being lonely, and self righteous enough to think it was justified. 

“Do I need to remember?” he asked hurt. 

“All I remember is pain.”

Samandriel blinked confused. 

“I-” he began uncertain. He didn’t want Michael to suffer, but it was bigger than him even. 

Michael was watching him. He looked so worn, so lost.. 

“We need your help.” Samandriel admitted 

Michael straightened in his chair. His arm was hurting. It wasn’t really his arm, it was gone. Missing along with all the rest of him. 

“I see.”  he murmured watching the other man’s face. There was something he wasn’t telling him. He might have lost who he used to be but he knew a fellow suffering soul when he saw one.

“Then you have it.” 

Samandriel smiled. Even like this he was so selfless. 

Michael reached out to brush his collar. He felt drawn to the angel. He couldn't be sure why, perhaps it was because he was the only link to his past, perhaps it was something else, but he wanted to touch him.

“Who owns you?” He queried

Samandriel inhaled sharply.

He wasn’t sure what he should say. The only subject that Crowley forbade him to speak about was the conditions of Michael’s deal, not that he knew much about them. 

“Times are different since we lost the war.” he tried waving off the issue. His hand still touching the metal.

“How different?” He wondered. He was leaning in towards Samandriel. His hand still clenching the arm of the chair to maintain his balance. 

Samandriel bit his lip. His goal wasn’t about the present. He needed Michael to remember who he was. He needed him to recover enough… to what? Samandriel wasn’t sure but he knew that he was their only hope. 

“We fell.” Samandriel admitted.

Michael was still staring at him clearly not understanding the significance of his words.

“All of us. Lucifer cast all the angel’s from Heaven.”

Michael’s expression was pinched.

“Lucifer?” he asked his hand shot to his temple he was pressing on the spot between his brows as if he was trying to push away the pain. 

“Yes.” Samandriel replied “Do you remember him?”

Michael had flashes, angelic weapons, pain, loss, despair. 

“Not really.” he admitted.

He pressed the heel of his hand on his forehead he was getting a headache.

“It's all a jumble. I see images…” he admitted. His eyes down cast. “Have feelings…”

“But there is no context.” 

Samandriel’s heart fell. He knew that he could not despair, and ultimately he knew that this wasn’t something that he could solve with one visit, but he feared the longer it took to bring Michael back. The more of himself he would lose. 

Crowley was demanding more than just his compliance. He was chipping away at his defense. 

Physical torture was trying, scarring. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming long after it was over, but this. It was a surrendering, each ounce of pleasure was a piece of his grace.   

Somehow, he felt more complicit in this. Which made it worse. He was setting himself up to lose every part of himself. 

Samandriel was surprised as Michael joined him on the floor. It was a controlled fall as he slowly slithered down the floor pulling the blanket with him. It fell around him a protective cascade. 

He had never been on the same level as Michael. 

The man had always seemed larger than life in the past. Always kept himself aloof. Yet here he was their knees were touching as Michael curled in on himself. 

He was vulnerable. In ways he’d never been before.

Michael felt that the angel wasn’t telling him something. There was a tether connecting them. 

“It was my fault wasn't it?” 

He asked. It took Samandriel a moment to follow his train of thought.

“ _ I  _ was the one who made the deal.” Samandriel insisted keeping his chin high.

Michael leaned forward again pressing his hand to his knee.

“For me?” he continued.  He was lithe moving towards him.  He was trying to discern these feelings he was having. This angel was special. 

Samandriel gasped. Licking his lips. His heart beating too fast at Michael’s closeness. They had never touched before. He’d imagined it more than he could count.  

Michael narrowed his eyes. He was studying him. Watching the flush creep up his neck into his face. 

“Were we lovers?” 

Samandriel couldn't meet his eyes. He felt self-conscious.  The feel of the plug inside of him was impossible to ignore. He wanted to be close to Michael. Had always wanted this, but he couldn't have it. 

“No.” he admitted his eyes downcast. 

“We met once.” he continued.

“I am no one, of importance just the only angel in the vicinity.” 

“Then why do I feel this way?” he asked. He was very close he was staring into his eyes. 

Samandriel didn’t know what to say. His heart pounding in his ears. 

“I remember you.” Michael admitted.

“You were on your knees.”

Samandriel closed his eyes as the image flashed into his mind. In reality Michael had rebuffed him. In his dreams however an entirely different story. He had pledged everything to the man. He would have been his slave. He would have willingly done anything the wanted for him, instead that honor had gone to Crowley. The irony was not lost on him. 

“I wanted you.” he continued certain. 

“You said no.” Samandriel admitted, clearly Michael was confused. It was obvious he was combining his memories. Michael didn’t know him, couldn't have feeling for him. Michael’s eyes widened like he was surprised by the truth. 

“Now I must.” 

He stood, carefully, trying to put some distance between them. His heart was hurting. 

“Because of your master?” Samandriel asked from his position on the ground.

Samandriel couldn’t respond. Shaking his head softly. 

It was almost easier to say that it was because of Crowley instead of the truth.

“Because it's not real.” he muttered.  

“You're… you’re just confused.” his emotions were swirling part of him wanted to ignore his conscious and let Michael touch him.

Michael cocked his head to his side even on the floor surrounded by crumpled blankets  his stare spoke of someone who wasn’t used to being patronized.

“I’ve got to go.” he murmured quietly. 

Michael frowned. How could he tell him that it wasn’t real it was all he knew. 

***

Crowley watched the angel. He looked troubled as he left the room. He caught the glint of a tear on his cheek. He knew the lad’s secret. He was in love with his angelic leader.  It was not hard to see. Again the lad might think he was able to keep somethings to himself, but he was an easy read an open book. Crowley wasn’t threatened, by their proximity in fact competition had always caused him to thrive. 

It only pushed him to further mark the little angel till his very existence was a testament to his ownership over him. 

***

Samandriel was hiding in the bathroom. There were tears in his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d hidden in there, only that the tears he shed now were wrung from the bottom of his being. Drawn forward when he thought he was out of tears. He felt like his heart had been placed in a vice. He knew it couldn't possibly be true that Michael had feelings for him, yet for a moment the brief possibility burned him. His heart ached all the more bitterly for it. 

He wanted it to be real. He wanted him. He wanted Michael to be the man, who touched him.

There was a knock on the door.

Samandriel wiped away the tears.

He opened to door to Crowley. 

The man was leaning against the door frame. He was studying his nails seemingly bored.

He wore a smooth looking black suit with a sheen of silk along the lapels. His tie was blood red. 

To match the flash in his eyes.

There was a heavy layer of stubble along his jaw. 

“I can help you know.” he murmured his voice a silken promise, just like the serpent to Eve before the fall.

Samandriel frowned uncertain. 

“What?” he asked.

Crowley brought his eyes up to his.

“You want Michael.” 

Samandriel felt his eyes widened but he kept his words to himself.

“Don't’ bother to deny it.” Crowley crooned. 

Samandriel met his eyes. He knew it was a trap. It had to be. There was no other way the man knew how to behave and yet he waited. 

Crowley leaned forward his hand barely caressing his cheek only to sneak behind his ear and grasp a handful of his hair, pulling it slightly.

“I can make you forget.” Crowley offered. 

Samandriel gasped surprised and ashamed as a zing of arousal went through him

“At least for tonight.” he added with a toothy smile. 

“How?” he wondered. The word slipping out almost without his volition. 

“Make you feel something else.” 

Samandriel knew what he was offering him. He knew it benefited Crowley more than it did himself. Yet the idea was somehow appealing. 

He’d never been the type to drink or use drugs as a way to get away from his problems, but in the moment having something else to focus on. Something else to endure. It sounded like something he needed.

“Alright.” he agreed. 

***

Samandriel was beginning to question his acceptance. He’d given Crowley the right to do anything to him when he made that, but now it felt different. While it was Crowley who volunteered. He wanted Crowley to make him forget. He was afraid. Afraid that he wouldn't just like the pain, afraid that he would like Crowley. He was never the type to indulge in self-destruction in the sake of oblivion in the past, yet this felt dangerously like what he was doing.

He was in a dungeon. It wasn’t the same dungeon where Crowley tortured him for years. He knew because he knew the shape and texture of every stone of that cell. This circular room was different, the stones a lighter grey. The room was somehow cooler.  It caused shivers to cascade across his naked flesh. 

He was on his back bound on a bench. Four pillars jutted from each corner of the bench. His knees were up almost to his chest bound by rope at the tops of his thighs just beneath his knees elevating him. The rope was rough against his skin, but not actually painful. It chafed at the tender skin inside of his wrists. His arms spread wide to both sides of him. His back was flat against the leather base of the bench. His ass exposed. His cock was still encased in the chastity device his hole filled with the lock. 

Crowley was just watching him. He held a drink in his hand swirling the liquor slightly. 

Samandriel was breathing heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation or the position. 

Crowley smiled at him indolently slipping his fingers into the glass. He retrieved an ice cube. 

He stepped around him to stand on his right side sliding the frozen cube in slow circles first around his right then his left nipple hardening them.

He brought the cube in a cool trail up his chest over the collar at his neck pressing it past his lips. The ice melted in his mouth. It still tasted like traces of scotch. 

He hiss in pain as something pinched his nipple. 

A black clover clamp 

The sensation was intense as if it brought every nerve in his chest to rapt attention.

Waves of pain didn’t surprise him, what did was the paired waves of arousal.  

Crowley added another wave as he pinched his right nipple with a matching clamp. They were connected by a thin chain.  

Samandriel was gasping for breath. The sensations were intense. His muscles tensed as he tried to move away from the stimulation. 

Crowley laughed.

“Close your eyes.” 

Compelled Samandriel did as he was told. He was afraid, afraid of what might happen if he gave himself over to these desires, but more afraid what may happen if he gave himself over to Crowley

He felt something slick slide along his legs and exposed ass. He jerked slightly the ropes digging in. Their burn was surprisingly good.

Crowley smoothed his hands up the angel's stomach and chest. The baby oil creating a barrier. 

The soft sizzling sound almost made him open his eyes. The lighting of a match? He smelt the tang of smoke in the air.

He wasn't sure if it was even capable but his the racing of his heart increased. 

He felt Crowley step up to him. A drop of sudden stinging pain followed by radiating warmth. He recognized the sensation but it had never felt like this. Ultimately he knew it was because they came not by his own hand.  

Crowley watched as the angel writhed on the bench. His pale flesh reddening beneath the black drop of candle wax. 

Experimentally he tilted the candle letting several thick glops fall across his chest in a quick succession. His free hand pulling slightly on the chain that bound the boy’s nipples together.

He loved the way the angel hissed biting his lower lip against the pain. As the wax hit he made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan that shot straight to Crowley’s cock. Crowley lowered his hand closer to his skin giving the wax less time to cool.

The angel yelped in pain as the drop fell onto the back of his thigh running down. He liked the look of the melted wax across his bare ass. 

The angel’s cock was straining against the cage. 

Crowley stepped over to his table of toys. He had something just in mind for the angel.

Samandriel nearly screamed as the vibrations started at the base of his cock. The cage made it hard for him to achieve a full erection yet the vibrations against the device was bordering on painfully good. 

Crowley grinned as he held the hitachi wand against his slave’s cock and was rewarded by wrenching moans. As he tried to buck up increase the amount of vibrations. 

The boy was a piece of art that Crowley was creating, slashes of black wax across his pale reddened skin. Every time he jerked against the pain of the wax the ropes tightened sliding over his skin like sandpaper. 

With his eyes closed he was never sure where the pain would start. It felt like Crowley was everywhere and nowhere all at once.  It was a rush he wasn’t expecting. The wax clung to his skin. The larger the pools of wax the more pain he felt, blended with the intense vibrations against his cock till it warmed up to a strange building bliss. 

Crowley removed his anal lock. His hole ached.

Samandriel felt himself tensing. Unsure what the demon had planned. 

Crowley soothed him. Which surprised him. 

“Hush pet. That is perhaps the one way I won't hurt you.”   

He assured. Trying to calm him. 

He felt the ropes loosen around his body. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” he growled. As Samandriel tried to see what was happening. 

“On  the bench on your knees.” Crowley ordered

Crowley pressed him forward roughly with his arm on the back of his neck till his elbows also pressed against the leather.

He felt leather cuffs dig into his wrists and his ankles. 

Crowley was playing with his ass. Sliding his hands over his cheeks pulling them apart gliding his finger across his sensitive hole. 

He felt him slide his fingers back into his asshole and Samandriel betrayed himself with a whimper.

“Are you sore?” he asked 

Running his finger in a circle inside of him testing the limits of the tight ring of muscle.

“A little.”  admitted.

Crowley shook his head. Unsure if he should be happy or sad his slave told the truth. He wanted him to trust him, it was true, but knowing he was sore made him want to pound his ass even harder. Fuck him hard into the base of the bench till it was hard for them both to breathe. Still he had better control than that. 

Crowley watched as the angel tensed when he began rubbing the probe against his ass. He chose to be kind to his slave’s sensitive condition and chose a smaller instrument for his machine. He had a slew of other attachments, for another occasion The smooth silicone black probe had a tapered shape. He slid to toy easily in and out of him for a few moments, lubing his hole where appropriate. He wanted him to beg for him. He wanted him to have no other thought in his head other than him.    

He attached the toy to the machine. The machine was aptly named it was capable of achieving 300 strokes per minute, but Crowley set a slower pace. 

Samandriel wasn’t sure what he expected when Crowley began to rub something against his tender hole but the steady rhythm of something fucking into him was surprising.   

He moaned surprised how good it felt. He still felt stretched, but it was slow and steady 

“You won't be able to cum.” Crowley commented, softly from the head of the bench how did he move so quickly? 

“Milking you drained your supply of seminal fluid, until you have built up more you won't be able to cum.”

He gasped as the machine increased its tempo.

He felt the ghost of his breath across his cheek before he spoke. Heard the clink, the ice in his glass as he knelt in front of him, his eyes still closed. 

“Even then. I won’t let you.”  He whispered provocatively.

“Not till you beg for my cock in your mouth.” a sultry promise.

Samandriel gasped. Surely he would never do that. He wanted a distraction that was true and Crowley delivered but he was still his own man he wasn’t beholden to his body.

Samandriel quickly learned he was wrong. 

While he was immobilized on the bench being fucked into submission by a relentless machine Crowley entertained himself with other means. Samandriel lost all understanding of time as he continued.

Crowley felt omnipresent moving around his bound body. Giving him pleasure and pain. Dripping pools wax across his back only to scrape the cold wax off with the end of a blade careful not to cut him, exposing sensitized red skin. He felt the stinging smack of a crop on his ass as the machine pounded into him. The harder the machine fucked him the harder the crop came down on his ass. It stung sending coiling impulses into his body tightening the spring.  He was panting, by the time he switched to a flogger. Lowering the machine to tantalizing slow strokes. Each strike came from right in front of him the thuddy impact of the wide leather tales rocking him to his very foundations as he rocked back against the assault of the machine.  

There was pleasure too as he held the wand against his cock. Even through the cage the powerful vibrations were valiantly trying to send him over the edge to no avail. 

Samandriel should have known that the man could deliver on his word. He’d begged for him to stop in the past, the man had patience. 

He got close, once or twice. Painfully close. Moaning, panting arching back wantonly against the toy or trying to fuck mindlessly forward against the wand seeking release, but his master was in control. 

The thought frightened him.

He was scared the power he had over him. Yet he couldn't fight it. He needed to come. Every muscle in his body felt tense his arms quivered from supporting his weight. His skin tingling and overstimulated, sweat covered his body. He was breathing heavy. His cock dripping precum past the opening of his chastity device. The burn in his ass hole had escalated to a sweet ache as his prostate was pounded by the machine the abused gland on the precipice.  

“Please.” he begged humiliated. His words were punctuated by carnal moans as the machine fucked him slowly one achingly slow stroke at at time he was so close. 

Crowley cupped his chin tilting his view upwards but he kept his eyes closed.

“Please what?” he asked calmly.

“Please let me cum.” he whined 

Crowley knelt down to his level again. 

“You know what you need to do to make that happen.” he scolded him.

Samandriel wet his lips unsurely. He didn’t want to be any more culpable in his own debasing.

“Please…” his voice quavering.

“Please fuck my mouth.” 

The words were fucking music to his ears. He was painfully hard. The angel’s reactions were perfect, real. Not artificial or practiced.

He loved the pain as much as he did pleasure whether he was willing to admit it or not.

He wanted to reward him. 

Crowley didn’t give him time to change his mind as his cock pressed against his lips demanding entrance.

“Open your eyes.” He commanded he needed Samandriel to know who was fucking him he didn’t want any doubt there. 

Samandriel tasted the precum on his lips as he slowly slid his cock into his mouth. Samandriel nearly choked at the invasion. Crowley pulled back slightly. Sliding slowly in and out. He increased the rhythm of the machine to match his pace. Samandriel groaned deep in his throat around Crowley’s cock. 

He tried to remember to breathe against the onslaught of Crowley’s cock, but the toy in his ass made it difficult. 

The toy pounded into his ass as Crowley fucked his face. His cock sliding in and out of his mouth down his throat saliva dripping down his chin, as he panted between thrusts swallowing as much of his cock as he could manage, Crowley pulling his hair pressing him down till he choked tears sliding down his face.

It was a fantasy sprung to life as he fucked the angel’s face his own orgasm building. He set the machine to max, knowing it would only be a few moments till they came.

He came first holding hair tight in his fist sending spurts of cum down Samandriel’s throat. 

The little angel swallowed as he found his own release pulling back to scream in pleasure. His muscles contracting/

He thought he was going to die. Every never in his body was on fire as his orgasm tore though him the taste of Crowley's cum still on his tongue. 

He sagged unable to fully relax still trapped by the cuffs.

Crowley thought he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen a fallen angel. Debauched for his amusement. A swift and overwhelming possessive urge overtook him. He wanted to fuck him again he wanted to take advantage of the vulnerable position he placed him in and as soon as he was hard again, which wouldn't take long, shove his cock in the angel’s ass and fuck him till he came and place the lock back in. 

He didn’t however. The angel needed rest. It was too soon to use him all night.

Aftercare had never been something he was particularly good at. He was a sadist. He loved causing pain, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of it. 

Like most sadist, he trained first as a masochist so that he could know exactly how much pain a person could stand. Lilith God rest her black soul had trained him to be devoid of sentiment, to be relentless. It was a further lesson in the education he’d experienced his entire life. Those in power are the ones who matter. His mother had taught him this as much as Lilith did. That the sadist's pleasure in the masochists pain was the most important part. From the day he graduated forward  He never submitted again and he’d taken his pleasure wherever he wanted thoughtlessly. Not today.

Crowley undid the binding at his wrist and ankles rubbing the sensitive skin. Samandriel collapsed his stomach resting in the pool of his own cum.

“Water?”  Crowley asked, holding out a bottle of water to him. He wasn’t sure of his intentions but he took the drink thankfully. 

Crowley came and wiped away cum and wax residue on his body with a warm wash cloth.

He tried to stand but his muscles wouldn’t comply.  He was surprised when Crowley lifted him up in his arms. His arms beneath his knees as Samandriel draped his arms around his neck for stability. He was easily carrying him, back to the bedroom. Samandriel stroked his hair, and down the back of his neck as he walked unsure why. Crowley set him in bed. Carefully tucking the blankets around him just as the had been this morning when he woke up. 

“If you're hungry I can send something up.” he informed him. Samandriel watched him confused, he was being kind. 

“Please.” he agreed. 

**Crowley nodded. As Crowley practically fled the room. He leaned on the closed door surprised at his quick escape. Emotional reciprocity also was not his strong suit. If only he could escape the feeling the boy inspired as easily. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments they keep me going when I have trouble writing like this chapter gave me. 
> 
> the holy trainer is an actual chastity device. so is the anal lock it is a combo of the Spreader Anal Lock and Deluxe Chastity Anal Plug. extreme restraints is typically where I shop for toy ideas.


	19. If I fall

Sometimes it amazed Sam the the scars the Devil gave him left no mark on his body. He had scars, more than his fair share, but the devil’s remained invisible. His shredded psyche was the only evidence of his abuse, and the scars he marked himself with in return. The Devil broke him. He wasn’t ashamed of that. What tormented him was what came after. 

Sam lay in bed next to Ruby. She was sleeping. They’d had sex again, he’d fed off her. He felt nothing. 

Completely nothing. Even the sex could not bring an emotional reaction from him.  

Sam wasn’t sure if that meant any feelings he possessed for Ruby were long gone or if his ability to have an emotional attachment to sex was gone. 

Perhaps it was the demon blood. Numbing up his soul like continous shots of Lidocaine.

Sam wasn’t sure.

Couldn't be sure.  

Still he found himself thinking about Lucifer and why wouldn’t he. As far as he was concerned, he’d spent centuries with the man. 

Going to heaven was a bad idea. It was beyond words a bad idea. Lucifer would flay him alive… again. 

Still he could not let the universe end. He’d failed humanity, he couldn't fail existence. 

Sam stood and began to dress. He was unhurried. Ruby would sleep for a while. She always did after he fed, he on the other hand wouldn’t.

He would be filled with energy. 

It wasn’t hard for Sam to find which room the angel chose. 

The blood clued him in a little. He cleaned up the smeared handprint before he picked the lock.

He knew objectively the angel deserved privacy, but he didn’t care.  He had more important things to worry about than the feelings of one angel. Plus he was kind of a dick.

The angel was passed out on the bed. 

His shirt was tinged pink and red in some places from the blood. Sam waited for the pity he normally felt to move through him. It didn’t.

“Hey” he called out smacking the back of his hand against the angel’s leg. 

He didn’t react.

“Shit.” Sam swore his focus narrowed.

He stepped up to the angel two fingers extended searching his neck for a pulse. 

He had one. It was thready and week. He was still breathing.

Blood covered his face in a slight sheen. Sam nodded to himself briefly before he stood. He returned with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water. 

He set the bowl on the night stand. He sat next to the angel on the bed. He dabbed the wet washcloth across his face. Revealing a hint of stubble along his jaw.

The slight sheen of blood traveled down his neck across his entire body.

Sam thought briefly that it must have hurt. Something that can cause you to bleed from your pores must have triggered intense pain.

Sam dipped the washcloth in the water before dragging it again across his face and neck. Pink rivulets of water joined the stains of blood along the collar of his once white shirt. 

Sam did his best not to soak the angel’s shirt but it was a pointless effort. 

Annoyed Sam abandoned his concession to the angel’s clothes. They were ruined anyhow. 

He set the washcloth aside and grasped the collar of his shirt in both hands rending the fabric in two in a clean motion. He continued the only sound in the room the tearing of the fabric as he ripped the shirt in half. 

He peeled the fabric off of his chest. 

It was strange to see so much blood yet no physical damage behind it.

This wasn’t the first time he’d cleansed someone's wounds. Except his pain was invisible. Just like his. 

Sam frowned at the odd thought.

He focused on the the task. He ran the washcloth over his chest mopping up blood exposing. Smooth skin, and tufts of chest hair. He gently lifted the angel so that he could fully removed the shirt, he bathed his arms and along his ribs. 

He deftly undid the button of his pants and his hands were on the zipper when he spoke.

“Not that I don’t like the direction this is going, but I think I can handle the rest.” 

He muttered. His voice was strained. He looked weak. He was looking up at him with untrusting eyes. 

“How long have you been awake?” Sam asked.

“About the time you reached my nipples.” he taunted raising his brows suggestively.

Sam didn’t bother with a reply he just turned his back to him.

“What’s it like?” he asked

“Enormous, why?”  Gabriel supplied purposefully misunderstanding him. Sam shot him an inpatient look over his shoulder.

The angel was smiling. Doing his best to sound salacious versus scared. 

“Not having your grace.” Sam continued. 

The angel pulled himself into a sitting position with great effort. Groaning as he did.

“Peachy.” he replied eyes guarded.

He didn’t trust Sam. good, Sam didn’t trust him. He was the trickster after all. 

Still he found himself, drawn here. 

“Really?” he asked. His back still to the angel he wasn’t sure if he was cleaning the blood from his skin or not.

“Like somebody ripped out a vital organ with a rusty spoon.”  he admitted.

Sam nodded. 

“What are you even doing here?” Gabriel asked suddenly

Sam turned back to him.  His clothing were still on.

“What do you mean?”  he wondered confused.

Gabriel was watching Sam. He was still human. He could sense that much. Just drinking demon blood alone wouldn't turn someone into a demon, death would do that, but it sure seemed to make him fairly demonic .

“Here.” he insisted indicating his bedside.

He hadn't expected to see him. He didn’t trust his motivations.

Sam moved to answer, but paused. 

Why had he come to the angel?

He made him laugh.

“We need to talk about the plan” Sam insisted. 

Gabriel waved him off.  

“I do _ not  _ have the energy for that.” he insisted rolling his head dramatically. 

Sam rolled his eyes in response. 

“And I don’t have time for you to be a drama queen.”

“Oh hey not cool man.”  he muttered laughing slightly holding his hands up, before dropping them.

He was trying to be playful, but Sam knew he was scared. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The angel sat up straight leaning against the headboard, but he was still week. He could tell that he was holding on to consciousness by the skin of his teeth. His hands were limp at his sides.

He was asking why Sam was there because he was afraid he was there to hurt him. 

“I’m not angry.” Sam told the angel.

“You're not much of anything as far as I can tell.” Gabriel muttered mostly to himself, but Sam couldn’t disagree. 

“Lucifer…” Sam begun

“Na” Gabriel insisted shaking his head as he pulled himself to a sitting position behind him no longer leaning against the wall. “My brother is a class A douchenozzle alright, but you can’t lay all the blame on his feet.” 

Sam spun on him, he was right behind him. 

“You weren’t there you have no idea the things he did to me. The things he made me do.” Sam insisted his voice shuddering. 

“Oh I’ve got an idea.” Gabriel admitted his eyes guarded. 

“That monster is my brother after all.” 

Sam cocked his head to the side trying to decide if the angel was antagonizing him or not.

“Now isn’t the time to say I told you so but…”  he raised his brows creating a flourish with his spread hands. 

Sam grabbed the angel by the nape of his neck. Pulling him close. 

“Choose your next words wisely.” he ground out.

The angel had a deathwish.

“I told you so.” he continued his words icy cold, he was shaking. Sam couldn't tell if it was the weakness in his vessel or fear.

Sam pushed him away the angel falling heavily back on the bed as he stood to pace. 

His words were nothing new. In fact he’d known they were true almost immediately after it happened, but that didn’t help. 

The angel wiped blood away from the corner of his mouth. He was weaker than he thought. 

“Fuck you.” Sam spat out.

“You promise?” he  challenged flippantly.

“What is wrong with you?” Sam asked 

“Sooo much.” the angel insisted tossing his head back dramatically  drawing out the word.

“But I'm more interested in what is wrong with you.” 

Sam turned away again.

“Do you know what the hardest part about addiction is?” the angel asked.

Sam steeled himself his back to him.

“You have to want to stop.” 

Sam sighed heavily.

“You wanted me to play my part.” he whispered.

He turned back the angel’s face was contorted in pity.

“I played my part.” Sam intoned firmly. 

“Look where that got us. I think I deserve a little bit of oblivion.” 

He didn’t reply. Just stared at the ground.

“Say something” Sam demanded.

“What do you want me to say?” Gabriel asked.

“ I was wrong? That I didn’t want to fight my brother’s? That  I was a coward?”  

Sam shrugged. 

“Any of that would work.” Sam agreed.

“Look I’m trying to do right by the univerness now. You're not the only one using this a penance.”  

Sam joined him back on the bed. 

“I don’t have a plan.” Gabriel admitted.

Sam raised a brown disappointed.

“ I know there is a backdoor to heaven, but I have no idea where it is or how to open it.” 

Sam groaned, he’d been tricked again.  He took a deep breath. Before he sat next to the angel. 

“It's a start.” Sam muttered.  

The angel was watching him. 

“I’m going to hit the books.” 

“Start with Metatron.” Gabriel called out.

“The scribe of God?” Sam wondered. 

Gabriel nodded.

“If there is a spell or a sigil to get into heaven he would know.”  

***

Castiel was going to say yes. He wasn’t sure that he trusted Dean as far as his emotions were concerned, but he was ready to trust him with his body.

Dean was cleaning up Max. soothing him with gentle hands down his back. 

Cas could barely believe what he’d done but he enjoyed it and it surprised him. 

He was in deep, and he didn’t care. If he belonged here then so be it. He wanted to feel like that again. 

In sync with someone, connected without touch. Dean somehow knew him, knew what he needed what he craved, before even he did. 

Dean let Max lay on the pallet on the floor. He removed his chains. 

Cas was still just sitting in the chair wearing all his clothes his pants and underwear down around his ankles.

He was walking towards him. He’d pulled his own pants back on. He was going to say yes. He wanted him. 

Dean wanted Cas, more than he ever thought it was possible. He was drawn to him. Had been drawn to him since before they even met. They were destined. The thought made no sense, the entire universe had changed and yet they were still here together somehow.  

Dean kissed him.

It was dizzying. The pass of their lips against each other. The touch of their tongues. 

Dean was gasping fighting against the mark.

“Wanna take a shower?” he asked trying to draw it out. 

Cas nodded. 

Dean held his hand as they walked back up the stares his eyes continuously darting back to see that he was still there even though he could feel him. Somehow it didn’t feel real. It seemed like he would evaporate at any moment and be gone.

Castiel wasn’t afraid. He was excited. He wanted this. Now it didn’t matter if he was going to hell. He would gladly take it for this. Nothing in his life had ever lived up to this moment. All his beliefs had been empty before this. This was something he could believe in.

Dean easily shucked his pants. Castiel moved to undress but Dean stopped him.

“Let me” he asked softly.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt slipping past the fabric to caress his skin. He felt burned where their skin touched. He was already panting by the time Dean slid the shirt off his body. 

He wasn’t hard. He was young, but his refractory period still existed. 

He reached for Dean’s hard cock. He hissed pulling away again almost as if he was in pain.

“I’m not hard.” he complained. Dean shook his head softly he didn’t seem worried about his situation.

“Shhh.” he insisted 

“We have time.”

“Let me take care of you.” Dean whispered. As he kissed his neck. Cas relaxed. If Dean wanted this who was he to argue. 

He slowly removed his clothes. He turned to start the shower. Castiel felt drunk with lust. Surprised that this heady feeling was entirely natural. He felt that he would follow Dean to the ends of the earth that he would do whatever he wanted. 

They stepped into the shower the spray of water warm and silky against his skin. 

Dean skimmed his hand over his chest down across his ribs. He gasped surprised at the intensity of the sensation. 

Dean kissed his neck softly. Castiel clung to him. 

The slide of their wet skin entrancing.

Dean stepped away for a moment only to return with soap. He rubbed the bar between his hands creating a plethora of suds.

He reached for his left arm gliding his fingers across his skin. Exploring him. Dean devoured him with his eyes. Hungry for every inch of his skin, but his fingers lingered. Taking him in slowly. His fingers massaging him kneading the muscles at the base of his neck slipping behind his nape squeezing sending a wave of sensation through him. Trailing his fingers forward. Tracing his clavicle. He shuddered. The soap slick against him. His touches both lingering and fleeting at the same time. 

Dean repeated the motions on the other side soaping up his right arm sliding across the grasp him by his scruff tilting him back for a kiss.

The kiss shook him to his core. The pressure of his lips possessing him. Pressing him into the shower wall. Castiel’s arms wrapped around Dean’s as they breathed in each other. 

Dean pulled away to continue soaping his chest in slow circles the soap clinging to his nipples sliding sensuously down his ribs. 

Digging his nails in light scraping motions down his belly. 

He rotated Cas in his arms dying to taste his skin as he soaped equally slow circles around his back tracing nonsense patterns, making Castiel shiver. 

Dean was shaking with need. As he knelt gently lifting Cas’s leg so that it rested on his and the ran his soapy hands up his legs. Keeping his touch innocent. He wanted to take care of Cas he wanted to make him feel good. He wanted him. 

His touch was innocent exploratory and yet thrilling. He felt like Dean was slowly marking every cell in his body with his touch. 

He repeated his caresses with his other leg massaging his calf. He was drawing him into a relaxing trance.

Then he felt his hands grasp his ass. Gently pulling apart his cheeks sliding a slick finger along the seam of his ass dipping down to circle his hole. He had never felt something that shocked him so it was like something pulling him deep inside his body drawing all his nerves to a place he didn’t even know existed. Castiel closed his eyes. His entire being drawn to the tiny circles Dean traced on his body. 

He stood his back pressed against his chest as Dean reached around him to cup and massage his balls. Cas whined when he immediately stopped  and gently nudged him back into the warm water letting it cascade over him. 

But he was rewarded when traced the whole path again with his hands dropping kisses as he went.

He nipped along his neck down to his clavicle, Castiel hissed at the sharp contact. He liked it. The zing of pain. 

Dean kissed his nipple biting it only to soothe away the pain by lathing each in turn. 

Cas was panting, gasping for air.  As Dean kissed his way down his stomach. Teasing him.

He was growing hard again.

Dean was already rampant. He wanted to fuck Cas here and now and not worry about the outside world, but he wouldn’t he was going to take his time even if it fucking killed him. He could feel the mark chomping at the bit nearly strangling him with desire. 

He wanted out of the water.

Cas was surprised when Dean leaned past him turning off the water. He was even more surprised when he lifted him in his arms and carried him to his bedroom. 

He threw Cas dripping wet and all onto his bed. 

The feral look on Dean’s face both excited and frightened him. 

He stalked closer crawling on the bed licking droplets of water from his ribs. Castiel moaned surprised how sensuous the simple sensation was. He shuddered under the assault of Dean’s tongue as he seemed insistent to dry him with his mouth.

Dean drank in every moan, every gasp as Castiel anxiously shifted on the bed. He was trying to place Dean’s mouth where he desperately wanted it without even knowing it. Dean laughed his chuckles reverberating on Castiel’s stomach, Dean circled his navel with his tongue once more. 

He wanted Dean to touch his cock. He was hard now, and was beginning to realize that Dean was carefully avoiding touching him there. 

He skimmed his hand down his inner thighs kissing his stomach taunting him. 

Cas tried to raise his hips up so if nothing else he could drag his cock against Dean’s body.

Dean pressed him down back into the mattress his weight holding him down.  

“You’re not in charge here.”  he insisted Cas should have been afraid, but he wasn’t.

Dean pulled back studying Cas. he like the way he looked spread out for him like a dessert. All pale angles and flushed skin. His cock achingly hard for him. Dean wanted to touch him. Make him beg for him. 

Sam knew he should leave. He stood just outside his brother’s bedroom door. 

The scene before him was not one a brother should watch. Dean had not bothered to close the door. He was tormenting Cas. teasing him. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Dean before. Somehow this felt different. He hadn’t been invited to witness this moment. 

Dean tailed a light finger across Cas’s cock. The man gasped his eyes rolling back into his head.

His hips hiking up trying to maximize the contact. 

Dean felt someone watching. He assumed it was Max. He debated on closing the door or inviting him in. 

He liked the idea of Cas sucking someone’s cock as he fucked him, but he didn’t want to push the man. It wasn’t just the mark who was interested in multiways. 

He took his time with Cas as he debated the issue. 

He wrapped his hand around him and stroked his cock. Cas gasped, groaning low in his throat.

Waves of pleasure crashed over him. Dean’s hand was ten times better than his own.

“You gonna stare all day or what?” Dean called out suddenly. Cas was surprised. When Sam sheepishly walked into the room. 

“Sorry.” he muttered his eyes downcast. 

Cas’s heart was beating hard.

Dean seemed surprised as well to see his brother, but his presence didn't phase him. 

Dean looked at him confused then shrugged.

“S’all good.” he muttered. 

He turned back to Cas

“Do you trust me?” he asked 

“Yes.” he agreed. Surprising himself. 

He wanted whatever Dean was willing to give him.  

Sam was watching as his brother was sucking someone else’s cock. Dean was kneeling on the floor before the bed. The blood was pounding in his Sam's  head. 

Dean slowly licked the other man before bobbing his head up and down on his cock. 

Cas writhed beneath him. 

Gasping his hands drifting to grip Dean’s hair. 

He growled in response. 

Pulling away. 

The mark was there in his eyes. Vying for dominance. Sam moved forward he didn't need Dean’s words to know what he needed.

He crawled onto the bed behind Castiel his back pressing against the headboard as he grabbed the man’s arms holding them above his head. 

Castiel liked it. Sam holding his hands as Dean licked his cock. He wanted to explode. To revel in the hard prison of Sam’s hands around his wrists.

Sam met Dean’s eyes over him. 

He nodded before dropping back down to suck Cas’s cock. 

Dean pulled back grabbing him and hiking his legs over his shoulder so that he could reach his hole with his mouth. He licked the delicate skin and Sam had to hold on to Cas so hard he feared his wrists would be bruised as he bucked against him.

“Oh god.” Cas shouted. Dean flinched his eyes flashing black.  

“Can you lay off the god talk, it kind of burns.”  Dean asked before returning to his task at hand. 

Cas squirmed. His head in Sam’s lap brushing unknowingly against his cock. 

“Do you wanna suck my brother’s Cock?” Dean asked stopping. Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

“You can say no.” Dean insisted. At the human’s uncertain expression.

“I don’t mind keeping you to myself.” 

Dean was breathing heavy. He was fighting the mark for everything he was worth grateful that he wasn’t alone in this he knew he would have lost control without Sam as a distraction. 

Cas licked his lips. In for a penny in for a pound.  He said he wanted this, and he fucking actually did. He was surprised at how insistent the sudden need to make Dean happy swooped over him. 

“Ok.” he agreed uncertainty  rolling from his back to his knees. Dean was still behind him. 

Sam was staring at him his mouth open in surprise. 

“How do I do it?” he asked. 

“I’ll tell you.” Dean murmured. 

Sam watched Cas he was staring at his crotch completely baffled yet determined. 

Sam undid his jeans trying to help him. Tentatively Cas reached out from him. 

Sam jumped at his touch.

“Stroke him.” Dean ordered. Trying to maintain control.

Cas wrapped his hand more firmly around Sam’s cock. He could do this part for sure. It wasn’t much different from touching his own he’d learned that with Max. 

He tightened his grip. Sam was larger than Max, or even his own cock, which made him nervous. 

Sam closed his eyes leaning back against the headboard.

“Lick up the shaft.” Dean ordered. Cas complied. Tailing his tongue from the base to the head.

Sam shuddered. It wasn’t Cas’s actions that drove him insane it was Dean’s words. Cas was a proxy. In his mindseye. He could picture Dean touching him not Cas. the devil didn’t create this desire. As much as he wished it were true, the devil only drug it up from the darkest recesses of his mind. 

“Keep your lips over your teeth.” Dean counseled as Cas slowly lowered his mouth over Sam’s cock. He only took the head into his mouth his technique was non-existent, but the touch was still pleasurable.

The slight scrape of his teeth fine with Sam, he didn’t mind it rough.  

Cas couldn't take him in fully and he was fine with that. 

“Suck.” Dean ordered. 

And the pressure increased, as he drew the head further into his mouth hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked him. 

“Jesus.” Sam gasped. 

Dean hissed.  Shit Sam forgot. You think he would be used to it after having sex with Ruby again. 

Dean watched as Cas sucked Sam he wanted him to touch him but he was barely keeping the monster at bay as it was. If Cas touched him he wouldn't be able to. 

Dean walked to his nightstand he pulled the lube from the drawer. 

He ran a light hand across Sam’s chest he gasped. 

Opening his eyes. 

Dean held up the lube wordlessly communicating his intent. 

Sam nodded. Moving his hands to cradle Cas’s head. He could pull him back if he got too rough.

Dean stepped back around Cas was sucking his brother in earnest now. His ass on prominent display. Cas gasped as Dean slapped his ass lightly Sam moaned in response. 

Dean was spreading his cheeks. He slid a slick finger against his hole. He gasped again. It was intense a squirming pleasure against his defenses. 

Dean slid a finger into him and Cas nearly lost his mind. Moaning low in his throat his moan triggering one in Sam 

Dean wiggled his finger experimentally

He’d had sex with virgin’s before … or at least he was pretty sure he had. It was all a little fuzzy. 

He didn’t want to hurt Cas. 

He slowly slipped a second finger inside him scissoring his fingers inside him. Sam slipped from Cas’s mouth as he groaned in pleasure.

Dean laughed. Surprised. As he pushed back against his fingers. He was more relaxed then he’d expected. 

Cas was born for this. He might not know it,but his every reaction was natural and insistant. He wanted Dean’s cock.   

Sam wanted to be fucked.  He wanted to be pounded into hard and fast he wanted more than this. He wanted more than Cas. 

“Can he fuck me?” Sam asked.

Dean was surprised. He could see it cross his face, Sam instantly feared disgust would be next, but it wasn't.

“If he wants.” Dean agreed. 

Cas looked back at him. He seemed lost himself. 

“ I can show you how.” Dean promised. 

Cas nodded.

“ Ok.” 

Sam kicked his pants the rest of the way off. Tossing them aside. 

“Don’t worry I’ve got it.” he insisted hiking his legs up his arm beneath his knees  so that he could reach his ass hole Cas watched mesmerised as he slid his middle two fingers into his ass. Even Dean found himself starring as Sam licked his fingers, lubing them with strings of saliva before spearing himself.  

Dean went back to fingering Cas’s hole. Watching as Sam touched himself. It was hotter than it should have been. He found Cas’s prostate and masaged the node. He moaned loudly the sound went to Dean’s cock. He wouldn't last much longer against the mark. 

Sam fingered himself hard and fast he didn’t want to wait for his body to adjust as Dean was doing for Cas. He wanted that bit of sting as he stretched to remind himself that wanting his brother’s cock was wrong. 

Cas wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never done anything like this before yet his body seemed to follow even though his mind was at as loss as he pressed back against Dean’s fingers. His cock was aching, throbbing in time to the thrusts of Dean’s fingers. 

“Now.” Sam ground out leaning back his knees against his chest. Cas wasn't sure what to do. He crouched over Sam his arms on both sides of him as he was on all fours.

“Lube him up.” Dean murmured.   He was growing impatient it was the mark. 

Cas couldn't move he was uncertain. Dean reached around him lubing his cock. Forcing his eyes closed at the sensation.

Before he leaned forward spreading lube against Sam’s hole.

Sam thought he was going to die as Dean touched him.  

Dean pushed Cas forward. He wanted to have sex he knew that, but a tiny part of him held back.

“Move.” Dean ground out his hands clenched at his side.

Cas took a deep breath and slid slowly inside Sam. The warmth burned him the tightness. He gritted his teeth. It was almost too much. 

His arms were shaking where he held himself up. 

Sam groaned as Cas slid into him. He closed his eyes. 

Dean couldn't wait. 

He lubed his cock and pressed forward. 

Cas thought he was going to die. There was a bit of pain as Dean slipped past the ring of muscle, but it was followed by intense pleasure. He couldn't decide if he should be pressing forward into Sam or back against Dean’s cock. It was the best moment of his fucking life.

Dean groaned as he fucked forward into Cas it was good. So good. It felt like he belonged inside him. He went slow at first as slow as he could manage, but Cas’s moans mingled with Sam’s to a chorus of pleasure. 

The mark prickled to awareness. Not to be denied.

Sam was picturing Dean. as far as he was concerned it wasn’t Cas’s cock that filled him and he knew it was fucking wrong. The same as he knew these fantasies were wrong when he was a teenager, but it didn’t make them go away. 

He heard Dean moan in pleasure as the cock inside him thrust against his prostate. Sam arched up against him his cock searching for any kind of stimulation as he rubbed against Cas’s stomach. 

As far as Cas was concerned he was in heaven. If this was what he did to go to hell he would do it time and time again because there would be nothing better than this, and Dean gave it to him. He heart was full of appreciation. 

Dean was close he knew it was too soon but the mark would not let him wait he fucked forward and Cas grunted as he pressed him down.

Sam opened his eyes watching Dean, 

Dean was pressing him down it was becoming too much he knew he was getting close. He could feel Sam’s cock grinding against his belly faster and faster he was panting. 

Dean was thrusting inside him faster and faster sending sparks through his body as he touched something inside him. 

Dean was going to cum. Sam saw it in his face. 

Cas screamed as he came sending spurts of cum inside him but Sam imagined Dean Sam snaked his hand between their bodies so he could finish himself off as he watched surprised Cas lasted as long as he did. 

Dean's expression pinched he was so close two more thrusts.

Cas felt Dean cum the warmth filled him seconds later Sam came coating his stomach in his juices. His inner muscles squeezing against his cock rolling his eyes back into his skull with pleasure

His arms were shaking he couldn't hold himself up anylonger he collapsed onto Sam. as Dean pressed into him

Dean pulled out as Cas collapsed onto Sam. They were a mess. Covered in cum. A small bit leaked out of Cas’s ass where he was sprawled over Sam.

Dean chuckled.

“I’ll be right back.”  he insisted he was going to get something to clean up the mess they made. 

He grabbed his clothes and padded to the bathroom his clothes over his arm. He washed up in the sink before slipping his pants on and black T he was starving. He grabbed a washcloth. He was going to get everyone cleaned up then get something to eat.

Suddenly he felt this strange sensation. 

He paused. It was a pulling sensation he pressed his palm to his head. The sensation was similar to his visions, but it was different. It was a compulsion, a drive.

One moment he was in his home, pale grey tile of his bathroom, he was about to go back to his lover and brother and the next he was someplace entirely different.   

He was in the ruins of a city. All around him were broken down structures. The air smelt like sulfur, but that was likely his fault,  fire and death. Up above him rose the skeletons of giant overpases. He was at their crossroads. 

He could feel the gravel shift beneath his feel. He spun defensively surprised by the loose semicircle of people clustered around him. 

There were five of them. Three men, two women. They were armed.  They summoned him? 

Dean tried to step forward and was met by an invisible wall. 

A devil’s trap? 

“Dean?” the older man asked. He was flanked on both sides by the two women. One small younger woman,blonde, she held the shotgun like she wanted to use it trained directly at his head. The second woman wasn’t facing him she had her back the others covering their right flank. A man on the other end was mirroring her actions all he could see of him was his back clad in a green jacket. He could only see the weapon some kind of automatic rifle.

The man next to him was an unassuming man, a little on the jumpy side, he could tell be the way he kept glancing between them. Eyes darting.   

Their leader? Dean studied him. He was an older man maybe in his mid fifties, he wore a grey flannel shirt and blue jeans. He had a greying beard and a beat to hell truckers cap. He held a shotgun in one and and a flask in the other. 

The flask held holy water. Dean learned that the hard way when the man flung the water on him. It burned his skin hissing as it evaporated off him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean demanded annoyed/

The older man stepped up to him he didn't respond just splashed more holy water on his face.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus.” the words burned along his skin.

“An exorcism?” Dean demanded laughing. They drug his ass all the way here for an exorcism. 

The older of the traded glances quickly before continuing. 

“omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii.” he continued.

Dean doubled over in pain. Clutching his stomach.

“What the hell Bobby?” he demanded.   The words surprising him as much as it did the group around him. 

He knew these humans. He thought of the vision he’d had with Cas, this man was the man who was with him during siege when he met Cas in his vision. 

“Tell us about Lucifer” Bobby continued.

Dean straightened. 

“Eat me”  Dean insisted. He had no loyalty to Lucifer, but he wasn't about to spill his guts to them. 

“Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica” 

Dean groaned in pain. It felt like he was being ripped apart, partially because it was true. He wasn’t being possessed by a demon, he was a demon. His soul was the demon. This body was brought back by the mark, and the mark wasn’t going to let go of either.

“If you’re trying to kill me go ahead finish that exorcism.” Dean admitted.

Bobby shot Ellen another looked over Jo’s head. His head was pounding he wasn’t sure if it was because of the exorcism or his memories bubbling up to the surface. 

The man next to Bobby was confusing him. He knew him and yet he didn’t. Every part of him said he’d never met the man and yet he knew the author’s name was  Chuck Shurley.

“Ergo Draco Maledicte.” Bobby continued.

Dean fell to his knees. His hands over his head.

“This isn’t working!” Jo insisted 

“You don't even know if this is going to work. I've got a helluva a lot more running through me than just demon juice.” Dean shouted.

He insisted rolling his sleeve up to his elbow. Exposing the mark of Cain.  

“Balls.” Bobby swore if anyone would recognize the mark it would be Bobby. 

“He’s right an exorcism isn’t going to work.”

The man who had been guarding their back turned to face Dean and a visceral gut wrenching shock went through him.  The man’s tousled brown hair was a bit too long his bangs hanging in his face. Yet his disheveled hair matched his unruly facial hair. His bright blue eyes were what drew him in.  He would know those eyes anywhere.

Dean felt all the blood drain from his face. As the blue eyed man spun to him

“Cas?” Dean asked  his voice just a whisper. The man’s eyes snapped to him. Shaking his head. He wasn’t Cas. 

"I'm new"

“Jimmy Novak, at your service ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the wincest keeps surprising me. I did not plan it but it keeps happening.


	20. Heaven’s so far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning homophobic language.

somewhere on the Bataan peninsula September 25th, 1945

He was going to die in prison. If they didn’t kill him right here, that is.  Castiel sat in a chair, that he’d been shoved into. He was dressed in a white cotton undershirt and drawers. His lip was slowly dripping blood onto his white shirt.  He was surrounded by a group of men from his regiment and a few others who had joined them. His commanding officer wasn’t in attendance. The men had grabbed him from his bunk. His arm ached from where one of the men bent it backwards to push him forwards. He wasn’t guilty. At least not of Sodomy. He was guilty of having unnatural thoughts, but he never acted on them. Never would.  Still it didn’t stop the accusations. It was all it took. He held the broom like a woman.  His glances lingered in the showers. Then there was his friendship with Aaron. Private Lawrence, had been having an affair with one of the native  Filipinos. That in itself wasn’t an issue. It was who he was having that affair with that had him sent to one of the military hospitals for evaluation, and cast suspicion his way. Castiel hadn’t even known.

Castiel was not sure what the penalty could be. He knew in his native Louisiana they’d recently lowered the maximum punishment for sodomy to five years in prison and a fine of $2000 an impossible sum, it rivaled the cost of his seminary to date, and that had been paid by the church, there was no way on his own that he could ever afford a fine of that magnitude. He wasn’t sure about the laws in the military, but the crowd of men gathered around him, made him more concerned for his safety than his pocketbook. 

“I’m not guilty.” he insisted. To the hostile stares around him. It was all he could think to say. He feared that any other denial would be easily read as a lie.  

“ Do you like women?” one man asked.  Castiel didn’t know his name he was tall thin, he’d seen him in passing, but he couldn’t remember his name and it bothered him. He wanted to address him personally so as to remit suspicion 

They’d asked him the same question when he was drafted. He answered the same way.

“ I was called to serve god.” he replied numbly. Not truly answering the question. 

“I am joining the church, as a priest, I haven’t been with a woman since I was fifteen.” 

It was a stretch to say that he’d been with a woman, but it was needed in this case. The men glanced amongst themselves warily. They weren’t sure if they believed him.  Castiel’s heart was beating wildly. He was afraid. He’d seen what the men had done to Private Lawrence before they took him away to the military hospital. They had beaten him within an inch of his life and that was before the hospital got a hold of him. Castiel shuddered to think of what they did, in the  fruitcake factories. The psychiatric hospitals.  No one really knew exactly how they treated homosexuals, but there were rumors among the servicemen. castration,lobotomies, pudic nerve surgery, and electroshock treatment, nothing that engendered Castiel to think they would actually help him. 

“What’s going on in here?”  a man asked. It was his commanding officer. 

He stalked into the group of men. They kept their heads down ashamed. 

“We think Collins is a faggot.” one man reported. 

Castiel tried not to flinch at the word. He’d heard it before of course, yet never directed at him.  

It stung him. In ways he didn’t know were possible. 

His commanding officer turned towards him. It was clear he took the accusation seriously. 

“Why didn’t you bring this up with me first?” he asked the men. 

They all looked away.

No proof. It was the answer, there was no proof because he’d never so much as held another man’s hand.

The man turned to face him.

“Take him to the medic. They can examine him.” 

Castiel felt pure fear shoot straight down to the pit in his stomach. He was afraid. 

He knew he didn’t meet many of the signs they searched for. 

feminine bodily characteristics,effeminacy in dress and manner, and a patulous rectum, he’d been thoroughly screened when he was drafted, he supposed he could have revealed his proclivities then and there and avoided service, but it wasn’t about avoiding service and he’d never voiced his desires aloud. He wasn’t even sure if he could. 

A cold sweat broke out over his entire body as the doctor entered the tent.

The doctor was a man in his fifties, his grey hair kept falling in his eyes as he examined him.

Fear kept Castiel’s pulse elevated.

The man pressed the tongue depressor into his mouth, 

He frowned at his reaction pressing the wooden tool further into his mouth causing him to gag. 

He nodded slightly. 

The theory was if a man didn’t gag it was because he’d lost his gag reflex from repeatedly being penetrated orally. 

The doctor continued his examination forcing him to strip, as he examined his body for signs. 

It was a humiliating ordeal.

Once it was over they allowed him to dress. 

Ultimately he was given a blue ticket. 

Technically speaking his discharge was neither honorable nor dishonorable.

They couldn't prove anything, but wanted him gone,and in a way he was grateful. He knew things could have been much worse, for many people it was. 

***

The present 

The air held the acrid smell of burning rubber. The rumble in the distance didn’t exactly bode well for them. Jo licked her lips nervously glancing back and forth between her mother and Bobby. Still hefting the shotgun, but it was clear the noise meant they were running out of time. 

Dean shifted on his knees the little bits of silt and gravel digging into him. The vomit inducing pain of the exorcism was fading to a dull throbbing ache, on par with the mark making itself known. 

“What do we do?” Jo asked her tone was hesitant, she was nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to what was happening with him or just adrenaline, or fear of being eviscerated by croats. 

“It's your call.” Ellen insisted sagely looking at Bobby. It was clear she was just on edge as Jo, but she had looked danger in the face too many time to flinch at it. 

“Maybe it’s because I’m new here but i saw we leave him to the croats” Jimmy muttered offhandedly.

It was eerie, watching his lover easily pronounce his abandonment and death. Still it wasn’t Cas, Dean realized as he looked closer. He was older, perhaps in his thirties, his voice was lighter less throaty quality to it, his hair a touch darker. The shape of his jaw was the same as was the intense blue of his eyes.

The noise grew louder. It was the thrum of feet against the pavement.

Bobby was looking at him, almost as if he could see inside him, see his soul, or well if he still had one. 

There was a gleen to his eyes.

He shook his head and purposefully glanced away from his before he spoke.

“Bag and tag him, well interrogate him back at base’

“Is it safe to take a demon back to camp…?” chuck asked hesitantly. The man was rubbing his hand anxiously through his hair letting his gun tip towards the ground 

Bobby glanced over at him, he didn’t look at Dean. 

“It will be if he’s never walking back out.”  

Dean might be feeling a lot more human lately, but he still had that craven demonic sense of self preservation, at the expense of all others.  

“Taking a page out of your old man’s book?” Dean accused.

As a demon, Dean knew things about the man that practically raised him that he’d never had access to while he was alive. 

“The drinking wasn’t enough, now you got to take it out on your family?” he asked the group were all looking at Bobby for a cue. 

“You used to say I was your family didn’t you?” 

He watched as Bobby tensed, before turning back at him. 

“And make sure you gag him.” he tossed out clearly annoyed.

Dean tried to fight back as Jimmy and Jo approached him, but the partial exorcism left him weak. 

Once they snapped the handcuffs on him he was utterly powerless.  It seemed Bobby had picked up some new tricks since the last time he had seen him. He examined the shackles, small devil’s traps were intricately carved into their surface as well as other symbols, While Dean was annoyed, he had to hand it to him, Bobby was a tough nut to crack.  

Dean fought back in the only pathetic way available to him. He dug his heals and in and forced them to push him forward. The quick jab to the ribs that Jo provided him with the but of her shotgun wasn't as much deterrent as it used to be. 

He grunted against the pain, but dug in harder.

Eventually Jimmy grew tired of it and slugged him in the face with his rifle and tossed him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, which was impressive considering how much larger he was than the other man. 

His delay tactics had helped, after a few moments seven croats flooded around the corner.

Their clothes hung in tatters over their body, exposing bits of flesh that was covered in god only knew what kind of grime, they were emaciated. Dean could only image because until this moment he hadn't really believe that there were this man humans left. Their hair hung in matted clumps, and their eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. 

One screeched, flinging itself forward on attack,  Jo blasted it with her shotgun, chucks of viscera went flying from its neck, as she’d missed its head, its poisonous blood was spewing from the gaping hole in its neck as it slowly crumpled as it tried to continue its crawl towards them, Jo stepped forward placing her booted foot on its shoulder before blowing its head off.

That didn’t deter the others, they simply rushed in, the street exploded with the sound of gunfire.

Seconds later the croats were dead, they’d survived this long for a reason. 

Jimmy had not even set him down, he was so certain of his partners proficiency.

It was that moment when Dean realized that he was well and truly fucked… he wouldn't  escape as easily as he hopped.

*** 

Dean was gone. Sam couldn’t sense his presence. He didn’t know why he’d left or where he was going, but Sam knew that he had to take advantage of it. He had to do his part to save the world, that meant getting the angel to heaven.  That meant breaking his promise and escaping.

He hesitated leaving the human alone with two demons, but he knew he didn’t have much time, and if anyone so much as touched him without Dean’s permission they would receive the full force of his wrath when he returned, which was likely eminent so he needed to hurry.

He dressed quickly doing his best not disturb Ruby, then he pulled Dean’s duffel out of his closet. He filled it with books and herbs from Dean’s supply, he needed to keep them hidden, from angel’s and demons. 

The hard part came when he tried to motivate the angel. 

Gabriel was asleep again laying back against the bed looking wan, Sam only hoped that he’d powered up enough to teleport them away, other wise it made his escape plan moot. 

Gabriel jerked awake with Sam shaking his shoulder. He smelled like sex, he wasn’t jealous seriously,

“Come to finish me off?” he croaked.

“Possibly.” he muttered with a smile, Gabriel always seemed to surprise him into smiling.

It was then that he noticed the full duffel bag. 

Gabriel raised a brow surprised.

“I take it we’re taking a trip?” he queried. 

“You up for it?” Sam asked he was studying him, he was so different than the Sam he used to know, and enjoyed tormenting.  

He struggled to sit up.

“I’m always up for you.” he teased. 

Sam rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t disappear. 

Gabriel shook his head. 

“ ,but if you're counting on my wings I hate to say it, but I left them up in the box.”

Sam frowned, he hadn’t been thinking.  

“But I know a spell.” he admitted.

*** 

Dean studied the room. It was very apocalypse themed, but given that it was about to be the end of the world twice maybe it was fitting. It was dull and grey the tan paint was peeling in places and cracking in others, it was faded by the sun, it was clear that there used to be large windows in the room, but they had since been boarded up. The chair he sat it was plain wood stripped bare of upholstery. The bare wood floor was stripped of varnish in a circle around him, and a devil’s trap held him in place, but if he was being honest the cuffs alone would have been enough, he was getting weaker. It hadn’t really occurred to him while it was happening, but each vision he’d had had some effect on his powers. He felt more and controled less. It was not his favorite scenario. 

The group had condensed down to just Bobby and Ellen, he wasn’t sure if the others were outside patrolling or had been kicked out because the wanted him dead or just weren't strong enough to interrogate a demon.

Bobby was looking at him, like he was trying to look through him. 

Maybe he was, maybe he was trying to forget the man he knew him as and just treat him as a demon.

It was amazing to him that he’d forgotten about them. He studied their faces, they were more worn than he remembered. There was a lot more grey in Bobby’s beard, more lines around Ellen’s eyes, but it didn’t detract from her strength. 

“So you're going to ask me questions?” Dean wondered aloud.

He glanced over at the table covered by a sheet, he knew full well what was beneath that sheet. He knew that it was a power play, there would be holy water, salted knives, and much more creative methods of torture.

“How about I make it easy for you?” he prompted. It was clear that Bobby didn’t believe him.

“Quid pro quo,” he continued. 

“You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours, no tricks…” he beamed like the cat that ate the canary, as he glanced at the tray “...no weapons.”

“How can we trust you?” Ellen asked. 

Dean put his hands behind him cradling his head as he leaned back in the chair his chains rattling. 

“I’m an open book.”  

Bobby narrowed his eyes. 

“What’s got you all chatty all of a sudden?”  he asked suspiciously. 

Dean shrugged. “ I owe Lucifer no loyalty, but I'm not a snitch either, its got to be worth my while.”  

“I’ll make it easy on you and go first.” 

“So how’d you know about me?” Dean asked. Smiling, he couldn't let any fear show. He’d been on the other side of this equation more times than he could count. The only leverage he had was that they loved him, or at least they used to. He needed to be that Dean.

Ellen glanced at Bobby. He answered.

“Lucifer.” he admitted. “You were there when he left.”

Dean grinned.

“I’m surprised that you were, but then again you never could stand to be too far from the action.” he was grinning, he knew that he needed to be on guard and needed to out think them, but he found himself oddly impressed. His old man had survived the end of the world. Sure this particular human wasn’t his father, but in a way that he never would have understood when he was alive he was much more than his biological father. 

“Where is Lucifer?” Bobby asked.

Dean grinned again

“Going with that one? Right out of the gate?” he nodded indifferently 

“Yeah, ok, Lucifer’s in heaven… next question.”

“Is Jo seeing anyone?” “ I forgot how tight that was.”  

As expected Ellen splashed holy water on his face.

What he was still a demon. 

“You black eyed bastard,” she screamed.

Bobby stepped in front of her holding her by the shoulders.

“Ellen stop it, don’t give him what he wants.” 

“Actually never mind, I retract the question she wasn't that good of a lay anyway.”

Ellen spit on him. 

“ kinky maybe I’ll upgrade from daughter to mother.” 

“He’s trying to throw us off topic,” Bobby insisted.

“Trying to draw this out while he thinks of a way to escape.” 

“Guilty as charged.” Dean admitted. 

“Why is Lucifer in heaven?” Bobby asked refocusing 

“Because he has a complex.”  Dean griped.

Bobby moved to splash holy water on him.

“Hey, it's the truth. He wants to rule heaven.” 

Bobby looked back at Ellen. 

“My turn?” he teased. 

“Have things been getting worse?” he wondered acting on a hunch

“Hard to get much worse than the end of the world.” Ellen replied but there was a guarded gleam to her expression.

“How about the end of existance, end of the universe?” Dean supplied. 

“What do you know?” Bobby asked. He believed him, then again Bobby could always tell when he was lying. 

He remembered coming out to him. The thought came from nowhere, he’d always sort of thought that his sexuality sprang forward fully formed, that he’d never struggled with it. Maybe it was another thing that he misremembered from his humanity. 

He’d beat these kids up in school. He’d been seventeen. They’d called him a fag. It wasn't so much that he didn’t like men, but he didn’t like they way they said it. 

They’d acted like liking men somehow made him less of a man, that somehow it changed him as a person, that it didn’t matter that he still liked girls, but it immediately made him their lesser. So he beat the shit out of them. 

He knew there was nothing wrong with being gay, but he also knew he wasn’t gay. 

He didn’t tell John, couldn't tell John. he knew that he wouldn't understand, that he’d see him just like those other guys had.  Like it was some disease that fundamentally changed him as soon as they found out about it, but he’d found out anyway.

Bobby wasn’t like that.

Bobby had accepted him. He remembered that. 

Bobby had seen the bruises, Dean said they were from a hunt, but Bobby saw right through him, he knew where they came from, who they came from. He talked to John and it never happened again. He wondered what  he’d said to him. 

“Someone back to the future two-ed the universe.” Dean continued. 

“Went into the past and changed something and now we are here, and the two universes are either going to combine and destroy the world or  separate and destroy the world,” 

he left out the last option. Where the dominate universe took over, because he was starting to doubt that his was the prime universe. Someone wanted the apocalypse to go off without a hitch, maybe he was a bit conceited but he thought that the universe when he was a demon made it a lot easier for the demon’s to win. 

Dean grinned.

“And believe it or not, but i'm on your side this time, I don’t want the universe to end.”

***

“The mystery spot?” Sam demanded aghast. It was much more run down then the last time he’d been here, but the world did end.

“It was the last place on earth where we were together.” Gabriel continued. Shaking slightly. 

“It was the only option.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. Sure it was.

“You don’t any perverse enjoyment bringing me back here?” 

Gabriel smiled.

“I didn’t say that?”  he was trying to look charming. He was wearing a grey t shirt that same had given him and some black sweatpants that was rolled up several times. In a weird way he did look oddly charming.

Suddenly his stomach growled.

The angel frowned.

“So this is what hunger actually feels like?” he muttered aloud. 

“Not as fun as I thought it would be.” 

Sam had not thought of supplies. He rarely ate, he mostly survived on blood but even that was  given to him few and far between. 

He knew the angel wouldn't last out there.  In the apocalypse.

Sam sighed heavily. 

“I’ll go get you some food.”  Gabriel was watching him strangely, but his expression quickly changed as soon as he noticed it.

“My hero.” he continued simpering  

Sam rolled his eyes again.

He wasn’t sure if his resistance to the Croats still existed or not. They’d attacked him in the past on Lucifer’s orders, to bring him to him, but he wasn’t sure if he was still controlling them or if they were just running wild. 

First thing was first however. He needed to make the hex bags that kept them hidden. He couldn’t risk Lucifer finding them, or Dean. neither of them would be happy. 

***

Crossroads, Louisiana July 29th, 1950

Balthazar leaned back against the building. The brick face cool against his back he had one knee raised against the wall helping to support him. He had found a sheltered nook towards the back corner of the church. It was still a few hours away the hottest part of the day, but as it was his grey T shirt was clinging to his back, he was grateful for the shade. He missed V necks. From his location he could see the orphanage. It was positioned behind the church set back from the road nestled into trees, down a slight hill. It wasn’t visible at the front of the church. He took a drag on his cigarette. The unfiltered tobacco was pungent, compared to what he was used to. The crackle of the leaves seemed loud to his ears. Tomorrow. He mused absently. Tomorrow was the day he had been waiting for. It seemed like an eternity, when it had perhaps only been eight years. July 30 th 1950\. 

He could see the children outside playing. He wasn’t normally the sensitive type but part of him felt bad for the little tykes, but a larger part was already grieving for Castiel.

“Balthazar!” Castiel called out. 

He ducked further into the crevice. He wasn’t quite ready to face the man. He knew what needed to be done and yet, maybe it was his time among the humans but the sacrifice seemed somehow larger.  He put out the cigarette against the brick wall. Exhaling the smoke in slow breaths.  He leaned back closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, he fumbled for his hip flask. What he wouldn’t give for a decent Bloody Mary but his hair of the dog would just have to come sans flavor. The gin was dry with an overwhelming taste of juniper. He shuddered. 

“Balthazar!” Castiel called out again this time closer. 

Balthazar took another quick swig from the flask for his peace of mind before stepping out.

“Cassie!” he called out seemingly pleased his arms spread wide. 

Castiel paused surprised he seemed unsure how to proceed now that he found him.

His hair was normally combed in such a way he looked so bloody proper, with his black shirt and slacks. His white clerical collar standing out clearly. It reminded him so much of their first meeting, except then he had been so bloody surprised. He had searched for the man for years and then eventually given up only the have him fall in his lap. Now his hair was windswept. His color high, his eyes wide.

“I wanted to apologize.” he begun earnestly. He was always so damned earnest that was clearly a vital part of him. 

Balthazar waved him off. “What for?” he asked curiously bristling. The man kept his eyes lowered. 

“I did not mean to misinterpret your interest.” Balthazar cut him off there before he made an even greater fool of himself.

“You didn’t.” he assured.  The man blinked strangely it was comical.

“Pardon?” Castiel asked. The sun behind him highlighted his hair and eyes like a halo. The Castiel he was used to was much more hardened than this. Much more somber and yet that was one aspect of this Castiel he enjoyed. Even though he had seen much in his short life, there was still hope. 

“You didn’t misinterpret anything.”  Balthazar admitted. It was wrong to torment the man, but the Castiel that he loved had to be in there somewhere.

“Balthazar you can’t talk like that.” He insisted. Looking away. 

Balthazar stepped forward. “And why not?” he asked beginning to feel the bite from his hair of the dog.

He looked so young in that instant, it reminded him that he was only twenty-five. Very young indeed. 

He didn’t have an answer for that. 

“I’m no angel Balthazar” was all he responded strangely hitting the issue right on the head without even knowing it. 

Besides himself a startled laugh slipped out of him. “You can say that again.” he murmured.

“Nor am I a saint, but I strive not to sin.” He continued 

“I’m gonna stop you there.” Balthazar insisted raising his hand palm forward not really wanting to hear his internalized heteronormative homophobic bullshit. Right then. 

“Angels are not born.” Balthazar insisted getting closer. Thus far he had kept the truth to himself and let Castiel believe the same lies all the humans did about angels. 

“They are forged. From raw unrefined metal, heated and molded into a weapon for heaven.” 

“Absence of sin, isn’t a requirement, only strength of character.” 

Castiel blinked at the weight of his words, but Balthazar wasn’t sure if the enormity of his statement hit him or not and frankly he didn’t care. His job was almost over. Tomorrow Castiel would die in a fire, a fire that would be used to shape him into an armament of heaven. An angel of the lord. He would be taken to heaven where he would be broken down, stripped of his humanity and forged into a timeless being of celestial intent and Balthazar had every intention of seeing this through to the end. 

“What are you saying?” Castiel asked his eyes soft and intent. 

In that moment it took every ounce of his strength not to kiss him and it still was not enough. 

They were the same height, eye to eye, but Balthazar was focused on Castiel’s mouth. The shape of it, the texture, all very familiar to him and yet it felt like a lifetime since he had last drank from those lips. 

He leaned in ever so slowly giving the human before him a chance to pull away. He didn’t he stayed frozen in place his body quivering. Balthazar could feel his breath ghost against his lips. His hand came up to rest against the side of his face as he pressed their lips together. 

It was exactly as he remembered it, and yet those memories never happened in this life. Someone else’s time travel stole his past and his future he was here to make sure one Castiel died so that another might live. The warmth of his mouth sent a current running through his body. The desire had always been; the love had overwhelmed him slowly. Yet this Castiel wasn’t his and could never be his, because he had to die.

Gently Balthazar pulled away. The man was flushed his eyes wide and astonished. Softened slightly by desire. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked plaintively. There were tears in his eyes, the poor confused human. Thought his soul would be damned for something so simple as love.

Balthazar sighed heavily. Before raising his hand towards Castiel’s forehead. He had been saving this last little bit of his grace in case of emergency. “Forget about it.” he insisted instilling his words with the last dregs of his grace.  “Forget.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long I've been having bad writers block for this and been working non stop.
> 
> EDIT: I changed the chapter title if anyone was curious


	21. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baffled king composing hallelujah

Gabriel shuddred waking suddnely. Fear spiked through him. He knew what creatures roamed, what was left of earth. There had been days when he was locked in Lucifer’s cage when he would have taken on the croats rather than face another day with his brother, still in his weakened condition he didn’t think that he would be able to fight one off.  He was grateful when instead of a frothing rabid croat it was Sam Winchester who walked through the door. Gabriel was huddled in the corner of the mystery spot. The tourist trap had seen better days. The roof over the entry hall had collapsed giving the entire building a slightly mildew smell. There of course was no electricity Sam had solved that by placing a metal trashcan filled with papers before him. The small trashcan fire kept him warm while Sam was gone.

Still Gabriel had his arms wrapped around himself. He was cold. He honestly wasn't sure if it was the lack of his grace that left him devoid of warmth, the taint of demon blood that still lingered inside of him, or maybe he was still dying after all.

Sam watched as the angel shivered in his corner. He didn’t complain or say anything upon his entrance. It was morning. Sam had spent most of the night roaming the area looking for supplies. He’d managed to stop by a grocery store that hadn’t been completely stripped of canned goods. 

“You have a choice between a can of hominy or expired refried beans.” he called out setting the cans in front of the angel. 

He just shrugged. Sam worried that he was losing rather than gaining strength.  He looked small and not because of his physical size. Gabriel had always been a large personality. He took up space he demanded, he teased and tormented but he never shrunk or cowered in a corner.

“You alright?” he found himself asking. 

The angel shrugged.

“I’ve had better days.” he murmured. He was still just staring at the canned food before him.

“Sorry the place is a bit picked over.” Sam muttered apologizing, not really understanding why. He should have no sympathy for the angel not after what he put him through.

Gabriel shrugged again. 

Sam found himself growing annoyed at the angel’s passivity.

“What's wrong with you?”  Sam demanded.

Gabriel glanced over at Sam. he’d always admired the younger Winchester, besides the fact that he found him the most “doable”. It was his compassion. The demon blood had stripped him of much of that, so had Lucifer. 

“Just debating if I made a mistake not dying when I had the chance.” he tossed back. 

He knew their mission was likely going to end in failure, but he had to try.

He’d always been a coward, perhaps it was another reason he admired Sam, he wasn't’

He held an innate strength that was born from years of loss. That was what Gabriel was afraid of. As an angel he’d never experienced loss till recently, at least on the grand scale of things. 

He hadn’t wanted to lose his brothers. He hid, he avoided the fight and the whole world burned for it. Now he needed to fight, but again he felt like he didn’t have the strength. 

Sam rolled his eyes at him.

“Eat up.” he tried again tossing him a handheld can opener. 

“You need your strength.” 

Gabriel nodded. He wasn't sure if he would enjoy either meal but he chose the beans.

They were a congealed mess, but he didn’t think they were inedible.

Sam was watching him.  Sam wasn’t hungry he had fed from Ruby recently, it would still be a while before he grew hungry.  

So he read. He’d grabbed books from Dean. He needed to find the backdoor to heaven. Lucifer was the only one strong enough to have made this change to the universe, it had to be him. 

Sam shuddered again as images of the man filtered into his brain he could only imagine the punishments he would suffer if they were caught in heaven. 

Gabriel studied Sam as he settled down on the worn floor with a book. He’d forgotten how handsome he was, all those countless centuries in heaven. It made time on earth feel stretched somehow, and strangely intimate. Gabriel closed his eyes. Now that his stomach was full, he was having trouble fighting the pull of sleep. He tucked his arms around himself trying to conserve the little bit of warmth he had left. 

***

Crowley was high. It was a mistake on his part. He realized that the moment the blood zinged through his veins. Human blood brought out his humanity, his loneliness. He’d done it to forget the vulnerability he felt standing over Samandriel cuddled up in his bed. He’d wanted to join him, he wanted to be gentle with him. He wanted to be touched back. To surrender control till they were equals, and it scared the holy hell out of him. 

The room was secured. It was the size of his study. Plain white walls, tan carpet. At the moment he was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. The small room only held a bed and a tv. He liked to lay on the bed and feel his body. He never let anyone interrupt him while he was inside. He never even saw the humans he bled dry. There was maybe a score of them locked away somewhere. He had a collection of lackeys withdraw the blood and different intervals. No one knew what the goal was but they complied. He shot up a vial at a time. He tried to limit himself to a vial a day. He wanted to feel, but he’d lost himself before, locking himself in the room for days. It was what brought Abbadon knocking at his door, nipping at his heels as it were. She might not know his weakness, but she sensed it and pushed back against him. 

He couldn't afford to lose himself again. Not in anything. He thought of the angel waiting in his bed. Last night had been perfect. It was so much more than he’d ever expected. His surrender was beautiful it was so artless it made him briefly forget that it wasn't real. 

Samandriel wasn’t vulnerable with him because he felt anything for him. He hadn’t earned his submission. Like everything else in his life he’d simply taken what he wanted. Samandriel didn’t want him. He yearned for the broken stalwart angel that he held captive. Crowley wasn't usually the jealous type. Possessive yes, he wanted his slaves to know he owned every part of their being, but that included the power to share with whoever he saw fit. He’d never subscribed to the idea that monogamy was the only way or that it meant more than polyamory.  He had no problem sharing the little angel with this angel, if only he cared for them both. 

There it was. His problem. He wanted the impossible. He closed his eyes, he could still feel the angel stroking the nape of his neck, sliding his hand up into his hair. His gentle touch. It had confused him. 

He craved the boy’s pain. The look of pleasure and agony combined, but he also wanted more. More than their deal allowed. He wanted the angel to look at him the way he did Michael . 

He rolled on his side curling into himself on the floor. He felt pathetic. Which was why he was here hiding, he couldn't face his angel like this. He needed to gather back his strength. His distance. He was in command, not his emotions. Still he couldn’t help it. If for the moment. He fantasized about what could have been. He could picture himself just like last night tormenting his boy. Flogging and fucking him into submission only to lift him into his arms afterwards to soothe him. To kiss his wounds as the angel ran his hands through his hair.  Warmth, tenderness, affection, love… things he had craved his entire existence that had always been beyond his reach. Things he couldn't beg, borrow or steal to claim as his own. Something he had to earn, something beyond his capabilities, because he was unloveable. 

***

Samandriel wasn’t sure what to make of it when Crowley didn’t return to bed that night. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Last night was the best sexual experience of his existence. He had tried to deny it, but he’d consented and it made it all the more powerful. 

Again that consent was half given and perhaps manipulated, but he’d wanted Crowley to distract him. He’d yearned for Michael for most of his life, but he’d always known it was a yearning that would never stop. Michael would always be beyond his reach. Samandriel waited for two hours after he woke before he relented and gave into his need for the shower. He carefully made his way there. His limbs sore and shaky. 

He felt ungainly as newborn calf. The heat from the shower stung his oversensitized body. He was sore. It was a pleasant ache that he felt all the way down to his toes. Crowley’s sadism had not surprised him, what surprised him was his gentleness afterwards. Crowley had wiped the worst of the sweat and wax from his skin, he’d left him in his comfortable cloud that was his giant bed. He’d been tender. 

The thought surprised him. Enough so that his hand froze on the bathroom door. He turned back to examine himself in the mirror. 

There were purple bruises forming beneath his pale skin. He admired them. He ran a stilted hand over his hip. His touch felt nothing like Crowley’s. His had been firm, but not brutal.

Perhaps it was because he had experienced his brutality first hand, but he had been expecting pain, not pleasure. Samandriel slowly rotated in front of the mirror. There were more marks across his body. He continued to marvel at the marks from the flail. He found himself spellbound. His eyes closed he could remember how each mark came about. He could feel the sting of Crowley's flail and the soothing touch of his other hand as it skimmed across his skin. His hand slid down. He found himself growing hard with the memories to his immense shame. Crowley had not placed the chastity device back on him. Beside himself he was becoming aroused. He wanted to touch himself, but he couldn’t bring himself.

He opened his eyes. Staring at himself in the mirror. He’d made a promise… no it was a deal. That was all. Still it felt like more than that.

Samandriel ignored his arousal as he toweled himself dry. He realized that he didn’t have any clothes. Crowley had stripped him bare in the dungeon but had not brought the clothes back with him into his bedroom and Samandriel didn’t know where to begin to look for more. He padded naked back to the bedroom. He perched on the bed.  He actually wanted Crowley to return. He still had duty to complete, he needed to save Michael, but this was also the first time in his existence as an angel that he’d been able to be himself. He didn’t remember his human life. Most angel’s didn’t. It was part of the breaking process. Taking raw human souls and shaping them into angelic grace. Much of the personality remained, but the memories of who they were, who they once loved, it all disappeared. He could have been anyone. From all of creation. Time worked differently for heaven. He’d never wondered about his past. His present had been too all consuming. Another thing in his life was becoming all consuming.  He was afraid of it. He was enjoying this deal more than he ever thought possible. Was it healthy? No, but he found a piece of himself with Crowley he’d never thought he’d see.

The door burst open. Samandriel shrank instantly on the bed worried it was an attack, he was currently defenseless, but it was Crowley. He leaned heavily on the doorknob as he entered.  His steps were unsteady as he stumbled into the room.  He was clearly scanning the bedchamber. He paused when he saw him sitting on the bed. Their eyes locked for a heated moment, a myriad of emotions crossed the demon’s face. 

“I thought you would be gone.” he murmured. Which surprised Samandriel. Where would he go?  It was clear that he was confused so Crowley continued breaking eye contact as he moved towards the bar.

“With Michael.” 

“I was waiting for you.” Samandriel admitted.

Crowley paused his back was to him. As he held a crystal glass. He was in the process of making himself a drink. 

“Why?” Crowley wondered. His voice was strained he kept his back to him, but didn’t continue making his drink. 

“I wasn’t sure if I could visit him without your permission.” 

“Ah.” he said quickly resuming pouring his drink.

Samandriel could hear the splash of liquor. There was a dangerous air about him. The same as the night they made this deal. He couldn’t read his emotions, but then again he’d never been sure that demons even had them till he spent this time with Crowley.  

Crowley knew this was a mistake. He’d wanted another drink. His decanter had run dry in his private sanctuary. Until recently his room had been another safe place for him to ease himself, but now he shared it with an angel. He had thought he would be able to find the time to compose himself while the angel was with Michael. Yet here he was waiting for him. Heaven’s most adorable angel.

“I suppose you want to be rid of me.” he murmured his voice resigned. 

Samandriel was frowning over at him. Crowley wasn’t sure what the boy was thinking. It was impossible to read, with how drunk he was. The angel was clearly deliberating something.

“Go see your angel.” Crowley insisted. Waving his drink towards the study door. He didn’t want to be faced with this temptation. He normally reveled in temptation giving into sin and debauchery, but that wasn't what tempted him now. He wanted to be vulnerable with someone. To be loved. It was impossible. No one could love him. It was why he needed control, needed to be in power. 

Samandriel stood. He was naked, every inch of his tender flesh exposed to him. Crowley gripped the glass tighter as temptation incarnate sauntered towards him.

“I enjoyed last night.” the angel admitted. “Just like you assured.” 

He was peering into his face searching for something.  Crowley summoned up the dregs of his bravado smirking knowingly, while in reality his mouth was dry at the angel’s admission he couldn't find words. He knew he’d physically enjoyed his torment, but it was another thing altogether saying he did. 

Samandriel wasn’t sure what he was doing. This was the demon that made his life hell. He couldn’t forgive him, but he also couldn’t change the past. 

He almost laughed. Except that was exactly one of the things Crowley had made him do. Sent him to the past to find Abbadon. 

Crowley’s brown eyes seemed to stare past him. As if for once he didn’t want to see him. 

Samandriel wanted something. It seemed intangible, ineffable as if he tried to name it or touch it, it would vanish. 

Crowley seemed sad. It was the first emotion he ever read in Crowley’s face. The day they first met, when he’d been dragged down to hell by demons and tortured. Before Crowley had laid a hand on him, he looked at him with sadness.  There was a heavy burden on his demonic soul. He’d never sensed anything from the other demons except seething hate. He thought he was wrong when the man easily dug into him with his knife, but now he knew he’d been right all along. The King of hell was sad.

He stepped towards Crowley again leaving scant inches between them.

He had a mission, find Michael, bring him back from the depths of his mind, save him, and yet he found himself for once feeling selfish.

He wanted this feeling to last. Objectively he hated this man. He used him and manipulated him, but he understood a part of him like no one else had.

The angel was looking at him, his face soft and expressive as his gaze narrowed on his mouth. He could feel his heartbeat accelerate. He had no idea what would happen next and for once it didn’t fill him with dread, but hope.

Samandriel kissed him.

His lips were soft, the kiss tentative, it wasn't the same as their other kisses. He wasn’t filled by the power of the deal instead a much more raw and primal power filled him, desire. He ached with it.  

He crushed the angel to him, taking control of the kiss with a growl. 

Samandriel gasped at the heat of the kiss. He wasn’t gentle. As Crowley ran his hands down his body dragging them across already bruised flesh, but Samandriel didn’t want gentle.  He could taste the scotch on his tongue as he kissed him deeply. 

He wanted to lose himself again, in physical sensation, he needed to know if this was just a fluke or if Crowley understood the dark part of him.

Crowley was drowning the the sweet sensations. He lifted the angel up dragging his body against his. The angel gasped. 

Samandriel moved the touch him back Crowley grabbed him, his hold like manacles across his wrists. Pulling him from him holding his wrists over his head.

“I planed to make you wait longer for my cock in your ass, but you forced my hand.”

Crowley taunted trying to gain some of his control back. He wanted to pounce on the angel, but he needed to take his time with this. 

He needed to draw this out. He wanted to make every touch last a lifetime, because he knew their time was limited. Even if Samandriel chose to extend their deal Crowley wasn’t sure he should. 

It was too much. It was like electricity across his frayed nerves. It was the zing of pleasure/pain that kept him too close to the edge. He thought if given time he could love this angel and it was impossible. It would always be an unrequited love. It was too dangerous for him to even try. It would break him.

Samandriel gasped Crowley’s hands clenched tighter around his wrists as he struggled to escape, but his struggle was only surface. He was trilled.

Crowley stepped forward forcing Samandriel back towards the bed. They continued this dance kiss, step, kiss, step. The he felt his legs bump up against the edge of the bed.He felt out of control. His heart galloping he was having trouble catching his breath. As Crowley raked his hands down his body again. He cupped him causing him to gasp, before he slipped lower grabbing his balls, squeezing and tugging on them. He groaned low in his throat half pain half arousal.

Crowley released his wrists spinning him before bending the angel over the edge of the bed. Pressing his chest into the softness of the mattress. 

Crowley wanted him.  More than he physically thought possible. His head was spinning with human blood. 

He soothed a soft hand over the angel’s back, before digging his nails in sending shivers over him.

He hesitated. Rolling the angel onto his back again. 

He looked over at him there were tears in his eyes. He wanted to see his face. He needed to be known. That it was Crowley who gave the angel pleasure, and not demanding Crowley king of hell, taking what he wanted, but the man he wanted to be. A man who could earn this.

Crowley slid his hands over the angel cupping him again his hands circling into a fist around him. Pumping up and down experimentally on his cock.

The angel clenched his fists into the blanket at both sides of his head. 

Crowley slowly unbuttoned his shirt, before tossing it aside.

He kept his hands on the angel’s thighs running them up and down teasing the exposed flesh.

He knelt over the angel kissing him again before trailing moist kisses down his neck, nipping him at the hollow of his throat.

“Oh god.” the angel gasped.

The call sent a sizzle across his body. 

“If you're praising anyone, praise me” he growled. 

Samandriel gasped as Crowley’s hand moved down towards his cock again, he bucked against the pressure. God it felt good. He squeezed just on the edge of pain.

He released him for a moment before turning towards the nightstand. 

He returned his hand slicked with lube. He drug his wet fingers across his puckered hole. Samandriel hissed, as he slid a digit inside of him. He was still slightly sore. The stretch of his muscles allowing the invasion burned deep inside of him, but it was a holy fire. He felt his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure. He was panting like a wanton, but he did want it. God help him.

Normally Crowley could tease and torment his partner keeping them just at the edge for hours, because he was in control, but now he wasn't the human blood was just a factor. It was Samandriel. He made him lose control, he wanted to give it all to him. 

“ I’m going to fuck you now.” he murmured. Breaking the spell forcing Samandriel’s eyes to him.

He watched the angel’s eyes widened.

Crowley swallowed hard.

“If you don’t want me.” he paused trying the meet the angel’s eyes. He needed to see the acceptance there. 

“tell me to stop…”

“We can end the deal right here.” he swore and he meant it. All of it. All that it entailed all he implied with his words that he couldn't bring himself to say.

Samandriel was gasping for breath. His body felt like clay in Crowley’s hands he could shape him into anything he wanted. 

“Don’t stop.”

Crowley dropped his slacks his cock springing free. He was rock hard. 

With his right hand he hooked his arm around the angel’s thigh pulling him closer. He leaned over him pinning his wrists with his opposite hand. 

His grip was punishing. As the angel struggled on pretense, he loved the feel of his hands pinned above his head.

Crowley nearly lost himself entirely as he slid into him. The moan was wrung from the depths of his demonic soul, the only bit of heaven allowed to him.

“Crowley” the angel moaned. Arching up into him wrapping his legs around him. 

This urged Crowley forward in earnest. Pummeling the angel with his cock. 

His bruised prostate lit alight anew as Crowley begun to pound into him. He couldn’t stop the strangled moans and pleas. 

It was pure physical bliss. Crowley realised as he drove himself harder and faster into the angel’s willing body. The slap of their skin and the angel’s moans the only sound. It would be over quicker than he would like, but he could feel his orgasam coming over him like a wildfire.

He released the angel’s hands so that he could grasp his cock stroking him. He wanted to see the look of ecstasy cross his face as he reached for his own release. 

“Come for me.” he ordered.

The angel fought it.

Samandriel clung to every bit of reserves he had he didn’t want this pleasure to end, but with the twist of Crowley’s hand he reached the promised land. Screaming his pleasure to all who might hear.  As his orgasam tore through him. His cum splashing across Crowley’s hand.

It was all he needed to send him over the edge, he came filling the angel. 

It took them both a moment to collect themselves Crowley leaned over the angel their bodies pressed together as he sagged against him. He carefully withdrew from him as his cum leaked out of Samandriel. Crowley kicked off his slacks, to walk naked towards the bathroom for a towel, wiping the cum from his body he returned to Samandriel he carefully cleaned him helping the boneless angel climb further into the bed. Where he rested resplendent against his pillows his eyes closed as if in repose.

Crowley turned to leave. 

“Don't go.”  Samandriel entreadted.

Crowley stayed frozen beside the bed, an unfamiliar yearning swirling in his gut.

Samandriel didn’t elaborate, he seemed on the edge of sleep. Crowley hesitated, before joining him on the bed.

It occurred to him that while he’d made the angel scream his pleasure for him numerous times he’d never touched him like this. He settled them both beneath the scarlet covers of his bed and pulled the nearly sleeping angel into his chest. The warmth of his heated skin across his own felt stolen somehow.

Samandriel curled into him.

And he felt at peace.

***

Gabriel woke just as the Croat pounced. It hit him with a heaving force snapping him instantly awake as he rolled across the rotten wood floor. He barely had time to press the creature off of him before the next one attacked. His heart lurched into his throat terror overwhelmed him.

The years had not been kind to the Croats, they looked less and less human as time went by and more monstrous. The hair was matted in their face. Its bloodshot yellowed eyes glared with seething rage down at him. The creatures skin was covered with grime and blood.

It wanted to kill him. It wanted to dig into him with its teeth. There were rotted bits of flesh stuck in his teeth.

Gabriel’s strength was waning as he struggled to push the creature off of him. He was frightened.

“Hey!” Sam bellowed as he rushed into the room. Gabriel couldn’t spare a glance his way as he pushed against the croat it was so close now he could feel its hot sticky breath against his neck. 

“I hate to be the ‘a little help’ guy, but a little help!”

Sam kicked the croat off of him. 

The sudden burst of shotgun shells exploding echoed off the wall.

The boom continued in tandem with a piercing howl as the second creature died.

Sam was standing over him, his eyes were wide. He was panting the shotgun in his hands was shaking. 

“Are you ok?” he demanded. 

It took Gabriel a moment to find his words. From where he was sprawled on the floor looking up at Sam his brown hair was tied back out of his eyes but in his haste stray wisps floated around his face. He looked genuinely panicked, it was the most emotion he’d seen him express since Lucifer.

Sam tossed the gun aside and knelt before him his hands making quick work spreading his clothes he was examining him checking for bites.

Sam was panicking. His mind was running away with possibilities. He’d  _ felt _ Gabriel’s fear. He’d been circling the perimeter. He’d found the gun next to a not too recent corpse the first time he went out for supplies, he thought it might come in handy he’d been right. He’d mostly going out because he was tired of being cooped up in the room while Gabe slept.  He’d looked so pitiful and yet oddly alluring. The same as before when he’d cleaned the blood off of him. It was frustrating he wasn’t sure if it was sexual, that perhaps he was just sexually frustrated after all this recent sex, but he’d gone years without while he was Dean’s prisoner. It didn’t feel the same.  He was attracted to the angel but it was more than just attraction. 

When Gabriel was attacked Sam felt the surge of fear and adrenaline that went through him as if it was his own. 

“Are you ok?” he asked his voice slightly shaky.

He was blinking up at him, he was still in shock. Sam reached down and pulled the angel into his arms. It felt natural at the moment to comfort him but the action surprised him as much as it did the angel.

Gabriel nearly choked on a gasp as Sam Winchester pulled up into a kneeling position and wrapped him up in his arms. He buried his face in his broad chest, his arms heavy against his back. At first he felt practically smothered by the wide expanse of his body enveloping him. Then something snapped. He’d never been this vulnerable in his life. It wasn’t the first time something had tried to kill him. Hell Sam had tried to kill him once or twice, but it was the closest anything had got to killing him.

He’d always been the Trickster, one step ahead of them , now he was just human. Small,weak and pathetic.

His arms snaked around Sam’s back accepting the embrace. He breathed him in. he smelled like cedar.

“It’s ok.” Sam insisted running a soothing hand down his back. 

“You’re ok.” 

Gabriel pulled back slightly so that he could look into Sam’s face.

His hazel eyes gazed back, there was pain in their depth, but also something more. 

Compassion. It wasn’t gone  even Lucifer hadn’t managed to snuff that flame. 

Sam met his eyes and time seemed to stop. His heart lurched in his chest. 

They always had a healthy dose of playful banter whenever they were together, there had was a spark of compatibility there. 

Sam wasn’t sure if the little zing of awareness that went through him belonged to him or the angel. He felt Gabriel’s breathing hitch against his chest where they were pressed together. 

Sam slid his hands forward to where they rested on the sides of his shoulders, holding him steady rather than holding him against him.

He was staring at Sam’s mouth. He wanted to kiss him. He felt like a fog had descended over him, where all he could focus on was Sam, the way he felt before him, the way he looked, smelled, he wanted to taste him.

“Why am I so drawn to you?” Sam murmured perplexed.

“My witty personality?” he teased but his tone was hushed he was afraid to break this moment.

Sam shook his head. 

“I felt your fear.” he licked his lips narrowing Gabriel’s focus again to a pinpoint of need.

It had been so long since anyone held him anyone touched him, gently. Lucifer had tortured him in ways that were unimaginable, except perhaps by the man before him.

“I feel your desire.”  

“Glad to know you want me too.” he smirked but remained still suspended by this thread between them.

Sam shook his head.

“It's not just mine I feel.” he murmured leaning just scant inches closer. If Gabriel tilted his head slightly and moved forward their lips would brush.

“I feel connected to you.”

Something in the words he used broke through the fog. A terrible idea begun to form in his mind a word for this feeling. 

“Would you say bound?” 

Sam cocked his head to the side in question. Gabriel pulled back grabbing Sam’s right hand. There was a cut recently healed but there was still the pick edges of new growth.

“Did you have this when you summoned me?” he asked 

Sam only nodded. 

“Could any of your blood have mixed with mine?” 

Sam frowned. Trying to remember it had all happened so fast. He’d snatched at Lucifer’s feather’s with one hand the other had been bleeding for the sigil. Lucifer had struck him he’d dropped the feather. He couldn’t remember what hand he’d grabbed it with. It could have been his bloodied hand. He’d been in a bit of a hurry.

“Does that matter?” he wondered. 

“Uh duh!” Gabriel insisted standing trying to put some distance between them.

“Blood is drawn to blood remember!”

Sam’s eyes widened.

“Remember the whole dire warning bit, the ‘Using blood binds you to the intent and outcome of the magic work?’”

“I wasn’t trying to bind us together.” Sam insisted defensively

“No but you were drawing blood to blood and ours were intertwined that’s all it takes.”

“We can reverse it.” 

“Has drinking demon blood made you dense or something ? Gabriel complained running a quick hand through his hair pacing off. Not wanting to look Sam in the eyes. He heard him stand.

“What are you saying?” Sam wondered there was hesitation in his voice, no he wasn’t dense he just didn’t want to believe the truth. 

“We are bound together.” he muttered.

“ you're stuck with me, princess.” 

“,but if we reverse this timeline it wont have happened. Won't that break the bond?”

Gabriel closed his eyes trying to fight off the migraine he was getting.

“Binding with blood magic is eternal and forever. Through lives and deaths and time.”

“I reiterate your stuck with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the purple prose gets a bit too much. 
> 
> I adore comments and story feedback


	22. Self inflicted his perdition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for season 11 with the Darkness

Hell was an endless center of pain and torture. It was a cycle. You were tortured and broken until you became the breaker, the torturer. It took a long time to make a demon, but not as long as you would think. For Dean, Hell was roughly 1 decade per month. There are around 3652 days in a decade, and usually 30 days in a month. So every day on Earth was around 121 days in Hell. Dean endured around 10,957 days of non-stop torture by Alistair, before stepping off that rack to start a new cycle. Two years in hell added up to over 88 thousand days 241 years. An unimaginable amount of time, and yet he lived it. Torturing souls slowly forgetting his humanity, time in hell is fluid. It is easily manipulated. Hell has existed from all of time and will existed till the end of time. The universe will be in the midst of collapsing and heaven and hell will fall into the void after it. 

It wasn’t easy to make Dean Winchester forget about his brother. It took a long time to make him forget. Decades, even as he tortured souls he would close his eyes and remember that he had a family, that there was a home for him once upon a time. Eventually he despaired of ever returning but hell was a cycle, just because he tortured others didn’t mean the torturing stopped entirely. Alistair took great pleasure in bending Dean to his will, in training him, in forcing the man to be his slave, his object to take however he wanted, to break and shape into the perfect demon, still memories of his family held him in place. For maybe a  hundred years.

Then he began to forget things, who he was, what he was meant to do. He fell into the role of demon. Of monster. He tortured people he cut into them as he was cut into, but he never lost that tiny grain of decency, he never raped. Even as Alistair took his time with Dean brutalizing him again and again and again, till he finally gave up. He got tired of Dean and he let him go. 

Dean was at a loss, he was meant to serve, or was he meant to fight? He couldn't remember, but he needed a mission. Crowley was there to pick up the pieces. To give him direction, to convince him he needed the mark, to manipulate him into serving him. Dean grew into the role of Knight of hell, he became bitter, and cruel as any demon before him, but there was always this spark of goodness in him. The righteous man inside the demon, that he never lost sight of.

***

“But can we trust him?” Ellen demanded, for what felt like the billionth time. Her voice was muted. Her and Bobby had left him to stew tied to a chair, while they went into the other room and  tried to decide if they were going to kill him or not. If he’d been more human that prospect might have worried him more than it was, at the moment he had just enough demon left in him to think rationally. 

They were scared. Scared enough that they would summon him for answers. It had been years since Lucifer, if they knew about him for this long they didn’t just summon him on a whim. Something was happening, on earth. Something to do with the universe ending.   Something they couldn’t explain. Dean needed to find out what, but he needed to do it on his terms. 

This was his least favorite part. Sure there were less painful ways to escape from his bonds but snapping a thumb was a lot quicker.

The grind of his bones as he wrenched his thumb out of place hurt. He grit his teeth against the pain but it was brief. He’d heal a lot faster than any human would. 

They made a mistake taking off the cuffs when they tied him to the chair. Whatever mumbo jumbo they added to the cuffs was a hell of a lot stronger than this devil’s trap. The pain and nausea from the exorcism was beginning to wear off. He could feel his vigor returning again. They weren’t used to having to hold a knight of hell prisoner, not that he could blame them. There weren’t very many of them left.

Once his hands were untied he made quick work the the rope at his ankles. He stood and begun to test the strength. 

He could push against the barrier, it felt like pushing against an electric fence, but he didn’t doubt that he could cross it, but it might take more time than he had. They would know once he tried to cross it. 

He closed his eyes and summoned up his strength to push through the wall. When the  sweet, pungent zing of ozone hit nostrils. The smell right before rain or a lighting strike. The angel’s always smelled like lighting. 

Then pain. Full body pain, as if something was trying to rip his molecules apart. He fell  to his knees his head tossed back, distantly he realized he was screaming, but the sound was faint just a ringing in his ears. 

The pain enveloped his being. He could feel blood, rivulets of blood running down his body. His eyes burned, he tried to close them, but he could still see, in the vision he jerked awake. 

He was sore, it felt like he’d just gone ten rounds with a freight train and lost. The house was silent, he wasn't immediately certain what woke him, but he felt a presence.

He turned his head and there he was leaning against Bobby’s dingy sink his body outlined in moonlight, his face obscured. Dean glanced over quickly making sure Sam was safe, before moving to join the angel. 

Dean was trying to understand why he was here. He had to admit he wasn’t sure he trusted him. Sam was the one with faith after all. 

“Excellent job with the witnesses” he murmured

Incredulity passed through him. Then growing anger.

“You were hip to all this?” he accused. Still moving forward. In the soft light the angel looked even more beautiful. Dean wasn’t exactly a man with the soul of a poet. He was a man of needs and a mission, but he was beginning to wonder did all angel’s looked like they walked out of his personal wet dreams. 

“I was, uh, made aware.” he murmured again looking down he didn’t want to meet his eyes 

“Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest.” he growled tapping his chest to further illustrate. He knew there wasn't a physical bruise there he’d looked but it felt like he was hit in the chest with a beanbag gun.

“But you didn't.” Castiel replied with something akin to pride in his voice.

Dean shook off his praise he was angry. Too angry to let some hot piece of ass sweet talk him. He felt betrayed.

“I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks.” he let his disappointment leach into his words. 

“Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier.”

“Yeah? Then, why didn't you fight?”

“I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns.”

 

“Concerns?” the angel’s gaze flicked away from him like he was a child.  

 

“There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God? He couldn’t  the thick layer of sarcasm that dripped from his words. 

“There's a God.” the angel said firmly. 

Dean wasn't satisfied  and he said as such.

“I'm not convinced.” the angel looked away on the verge of speaking but Dean didn’t let up. 

'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?”

“The Lord works...

“If you say "mysterious ways," so help me, I will kick your ass.” the angel raised his hand dropping the issue for the moment. Dean switched gears. As the pieces fell into place. 

“So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse.

“That's why we're here. Big things afoot.”

“Do I want to know what kind of things?”

“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals.”

“Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld.”

“Those seals are being broken by Lilith.”

 

“She did the spell. She rose the witnesses.”

“Mm-hmm. And not just here. 20 other hunters are dead.”

“Of course. She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us.”

“Lilith has a certain sense of humor.”

“Well, we put those spirits back to rest.”

“It doesn't matter. The seal was broken.”

“Why break the seal anyway?”

“You think of the seals as locks on a door.”

“Okay. Last one opens and...

“Lucifer walks free.”

Dean stood stock still. Something very close to terror went through him. Give him a blade and something to fight he would come out on top every time, but this. 

“Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing.”

 

“Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in 2,000 years?”

 

“To stop Lucifer.” Dean murmured things clicking into place.

“That's why we've arrived.”

Dean couldn’t stop the sarcasm from entering his voice, he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it. 

 

“Well... bang-up job so far. “ he insisted leaning against the sink besides him. “Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice.”

 

“We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost.  Dean scoffed silently practically rolling his eyes, more excuses. The angel straightened he wasn’t physically taller than him, but somehow his presence still felt larger than him suddenly. 

 

“Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week.” he informed Dean moving closer.

“You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here.”

He moved closer, Dean felt his heartbeat lurch into his chest, he wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or aroused by the angel’s closeness or perhaps both. 

You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.”

Dean came back to himself slowly.

“...side effects of the exorcism?” Ellen asked her voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. Dean blinked and the pain of that small movement forced his eyes closed again. 

“I’ve never seen an exorcism do this.” Bobby muttered the awe and fear in his voice coming through in waves. His voice sounded distorted like Dean was under water. 

Dean felt the shudder move through him. Like he was trying to shake apart. White lights flashed before his eyes. His muscles tensed against the seizure. His limbs flailing he could feel the wetness slide down his face. It was thick viscous blood. 

“Is this a trick? Is he dying?” Ellen asked?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should we help him?”

“I don’t know!” Bobby roared.  

Dean opened his eyes he could see Bobby on the edges of the devil's trap hesitating. He saw the pain in his father figure’s face. He wanted to come to his aid he wanted to help him. 

“Bucket.” Dean managed to grunt out he felt the blood move around his teeth. He spat on the floor. So he could swallow back the bile. 

“What?” Bobby demanded.

Dean pointed at the bucket they’d used to fling holy water at him. 

Whether he trusted him or not remained to be seen, but Bobby tossed him the tin pail. It rattled as it hit the floor. He crawled slightly towards it, he felt the slide of wet blood across his body.

Dean vomited blood and what felt like vital organs into the bucket. He retched several times his body convulsing with each painful spasm.

It seems at least he wasn’t going to die from this vision, but they were definitely getting worse, but at least now he knew why.

He leaned against the bucket for support.

“Can I get a towel over here?”  Dean asked. Ellen moved to comply.

“Not that it will do you much good.”

Bobby muttered.

“Yeah love you too,Bobby” he gripped.

Bobby flinched almost as if the term of endearment was as painful to him as the name of god was to demons. 

“Dean?” he asked a strange sense of hope and fear in his voice. 

Dean was saved from having to answer by the return of Ellen.

She tossed him a dark grey towel.

He wiped the blood from his face. He could still feel it like a blood halo around his face.

“Now what in the hell was that?” Bobby asked

“Answer my question first.”

Dean ordered. The pail had scratched the devil's trap when Bobby threw it to him, he didn’t think anyone had noticed. He was fine playing along until he was able to catch his breath.   

“And what's that?”

“What’s changed?” 

Ellen and Bobby exchanged looks.

“You’ve been in the apocalypse, you're used to weird shit, but suddenly there is something you can’t explain, and you summon me. What is it?”

Bobby sighed heavily.

“It’s easier if we just show you.” he murmured

“Come on out of there.”

Dean didn’t pretend, Bobby knew the devil’s trap was broken somehow. Then again his life depended on it usually so it was understandable.

“You’re just going to let him go?” Ellen demanded

“No, we're going to make a deal.”    

Dean raised a brow.

“I’m not kissing you.”

Bobby’s face scrunched up in revulsion.

“Not that kind of deal ya half wit, I’m talking a civil agreement. I won't bust your ass so full of rock salt that you crap margaritas and you don't go and attack us.”

Dean nodded.

“Not that I can do much like this.” 

He muttered stepping over the line indicating his weakened state with a hand gesture. 

“Yeah, I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last night. I know you.”  

Dean nodded slightly, it was true even as weak as he was he could snap Bobby’s neck easy.

***

In the beginning God created the archangels: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel. Lucifer, the second of the archangels created, formed an especially strong bond with his older brother Michael. He loved him almost as much as he loved God. Together they battled and defeated the Darkness, an evil older than God. After trapping the Darkness, rather than destroying her and causing a disruption in The Cosmic Balance, God created a Mark to serve as the lock and key to her cage, and gave it to his most trusted archangel -- Lucifer. The Mark eventually began assert a will of its own and began to corrupt Lucifer. 

Lucifer began to argue with his brothers and with God because of his contempt for humanity which was further amplified by the Mark. The arguments became so heated and bitter that Gabriel chose to leave Heaven rather than watch the fighting ensue. According to Lucifer, God commanded his angels to venerate Man, but Lucifer refused and was cast out of Heaven. As an act of defiance, Lucifer twisted a human being's soul  to create the first demon, Lilith.

Lucifer eventually passed the Mark on to Cain. Cain was ordered by Lucifer to create the Knights of Hell from some of the first fallen humans hand-picked by Lucifer.

In an effort to combat the rising tide of demons, God took righteous humans souls and used them to create the other angels.

Lucifer loved his father, his creator, to the point of madness. His father did not physically make them, they shared no biological bond and God was lonely. He created the archangels as his companions. Lucifer was once the most beautiful angel in all of existence. God loved him best of all his brothers, even more than Michael, yet it wasn't enough. 

God made man a sick and sad image of himself, polluted by greed and hatred and lust. Still he loved them more.

Jealousy wasn’t a pretty color, but Lucifer wore it well. Part of him wanted nothing more than to have God leave, give him peace with his brothers, but a larger portion wanted God all to himself. 

 

 

***

 

 

Dean wasn’t sure how to describe the scene before him. It was like a video game that had not fully rendered the background.

Chunks of earth had just ceased to exist, others were floating in a void of empty blackness. It wasn’t like something was coating the landscape obscuring it.  It was literally missing as if something had torn the ground apart leaving emptiness in its wakes. A bomb of nothingness had exploded and left behind this weird form of rubble. 

Dean turned back to Bobby

“What the hell is that?”  he demanded pointing 

“We were sort of hoping you’d tell us.”

He smelled ozone again it felt like the air was crackling he could feel the tingle of power on the breeze.

“It’s a wound.” 

Said a voice, the softly spoken words caused all the hairs on the back of his neck to raise. 

He turned slowly.

“The universe is bleeding.” 

Lucifer wore a freshly pressed glaringly white suit, especially compared to the dingy background the apocalypse provided. Dean knew he couldn't really be there. He didn’t have a vessel, but Lucifer had all of heaven behind him, he had the power to manifest visually without one.   His visage was that of Nick his first vessel it seemed as if there was never any damage to him. Could he have repared him somehow?  

Bobby’s moved towards his gun

“No.” Dean shouted extending his arm towards him. Now wasn’t the time to act rashly. 

He didn’t want Bobby to get killed, but Lucifer was ignoring him, he stepped forward the ground crunching beneath his weight as he moved. Dean felt the surge of energy as he passed, the pull of opposite aligned magnets drawing him into fight.

“My brother told me this was happening, I didn’t believe him,” he tossed a glance over his shoulder

“Guess who has egg on their face.”  he frowned. 

Glancing between Bobby and Dean.

“What are you two doing together did you forget you're playing opposite sides now?”

Neither of them replied.

“Am I going to have to start flinging people into the void before I get an answer from either of you?” he demanded rolling his neck. Raising his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Dean muttered. 

He suddenly felt tense.

“Same as you I’m trying to hold my universe together.”

“And it is  **_my_ ** universe Dean, trying to keep Sammy and me apart.” he took a step forward clicking his tongue, softly chiding him.

“Not a wise move on your part, and I have some very  _ nasty _ things planned for when I see your brother again, after what he pulled” he glanced around again.

“He’s not here is he?”

He peered around Dean.

“Sammy!” he shouted before he shoved his fingers in his mouth whistling sharply.

“Come on Sammy! Here boy!”  

Dean clenched his fists.

“You are never going to see my brother again.” Dean vowed. 

Lucifer paused.

“Really, the defending big brother routine? I thought we beat that out of you a long time ago.” 

Dean spoke around clenched teeth

“Well, old habits die hard and all.” 

Lucifer smirked. 

“Yeah.” he agreed nodding.

He turned his back to them and stalked a few feet away before spinning wildly back to them. 

“So what are we gonna do about this?” He demanded gesturing to the gaping hole in the fabric of existence. 

“I’m fairly sure we are gonna have different approaches to the end of the universe.”

Dean licked his lips, until just a few moments ago he would have disagreed. Until a few moments ago he didn’t want his humanity back, because he didn’t want all the burdens that came with it. Maybe he’d realised the mark was a mistake, but he hadn’t wanted to be human.  He would have agreed with Lucifer that the apocalypse world was better than a world where he was powerless. He didn’t want to watch those he cared about die, painful bloody deaths just because he couldn’t walk away from a fight, because he and his brother were destined to save the world. 

He knew it was true, maybe he hadn’t seen it for himself, but he knew if he’d been there for Sammy, like he was in his visions, if Cas had raised him from hell like he’d said. It wouldn't have been the same. Dean and Sam together would have stopped the world from ending. 

Now he wasn’t sure, he didn’t want to be a demon. He didn't to live in this ashtray of a world anymore. A world wrecked by angel’s and demons.  If he sided with Lucifer or even Crowley he was signing himself up for a lifetime of hell, literally. He was going to be living in hell. The cycle of pain and abuse and torment. It would never end.  

As a demon that cycle had become second nature to him he’d grown accustomed to it. That was what life as a demon was. Never fighting back always bending and scraping to the rule of others. He was done. He wasn't sure if he had a life to go back to or if he would remember any of this on the other side but he knew he wanted to try.

“How did you do it?” 

“Pardon?” Lucifer asked.

“How did you keep Cas from saving me?”

“Who is this Cas person you keep talking about? And why does everyone think it’s me who changed the universe.”

Dean frowned.

“It has to be you, you’re  the only one strong enough.”

“I’m a product of this universe same as you it wasn’t me that created it, I’m just here to make sure it stays my universe.”

Lucifer lunged at him. Grabbing him about the collar. 

“Get out of here!” Dean insisted to Bobby as he grappled with Lucifer, he wasn’t as strong as him. The moment they locked together Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to take him not long run but he could have Bobby and Ellen make it out then he’d find Crowley and see where he stood. Somehow Cas wasn’t there to pull him out of hell. Wasn’t there to save him, didn’t know he was an angel. Now Dean knew what he needed to do. 

Lucifer wasn’t real. He wasn’t physically here, he couldn’t physically manifest himself. he was technically fighting Dean in his mind which was probably why he was losing. 

Dean wasn’t exactly known for keeping up with his mental cardio. 

 “Face it Dean you're not strong enough.” 

“I don’t have to be strong enough.”

Lucifer frowned. Confused. 

“Just need to be faster than you.” 

As soon as Bobby was out of sight he ran. He wasn't proud of it but he wasn’t strong enough to go after Lucifer on his own yet either. He needed to talk to Crowley see what side of this the demon wanted to play, and go from there. Bobby would be ok, given a head start and all he would make it home just find and either way, he had a feeling if he righted the universe Bobby, Ellen and Jo would be just fine.  

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and it really keeps me going so let me know what you think.


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